


Road Trip

by stella_pegasi



Category: Stargate - All Series, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, SGA, SGA Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 76,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stella_pegasi/pseuds/stella_pegasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights.  What could possibly go wrong on vacation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wine Country

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: Teen and up  
> Genres: Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!  
> Word Count: Wine Country 6,483  
> Spoilers: Post-Season Five  
> Warnings: Language
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own them; I would have treated them better.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> I started out writing a 10,000+ word story for a challenge. I was having so much fun with the story that I decided to write more segments of Sheppard and company and their road trip. As I complete a segment of the trip, I will add it to this post. Most of the genres listed above will be in each segment, but Part One is more getting into the groove of the trip. Some segments, chapters, will be action packed with whump, some will be just the guys chilling and having fun. I hope you enjoy…I am having so much fun writing this.

**Trip Segment One: Wine Country**

“Carson, what are you wearing that for?”

“Rodney, we’re going on vacation. I plan on fishing; besides, I feel like I’m on vacation when I wear my fishing vest.”

“Well, you look silly.”

“Oh, and you don’t, in that shirt from the seventies. Right,” Beckett retorted as he stuffed his suitcase in the back of the SUV, next to Rodney’s, then gently placed his rod and reel and tackle box inside.

Rodney and Carson were still bickering as John Sheppard walked out of the warehouse, Ronon in tow. The warehouse was used as the beam point to and from the Apollo, which was in stationary orbit above Atlantis, as she sat cloaked on the surface of the Pacific Ocean. The workers standing nearby, dressed in maintenance uniforms, were actually Air Force SO’s.

“Sheppard, I don’t understand why I can’t bring my blaster.”

“Chewie, I have told you three times now; we are on vacation. We're going to be driving through a lot of small towns. I don’t want to have to explain your blaster to a bunch of backwater sheriffs, in case we run into any trouble. And knowing our luck, we’ll run into trouble. You can carry a 9-mil; just like the rest of us. You have all the proper documentation, and because we're all attached to the Air Force, we have permits to carry concealed weapons.”

“You don’t carry a 9-mil; your gun’s is more powerful.”

Sheppard dropped his head, sighing, “No; I don’t. If you’re nice, I’ll let you carry my P-14…maybe.” He tossed his bag in the back, slipped on his sunglasses, and walked toward the front of the SUV.

“I don’t like this.” Ronon walked up to the vehicle, and threw his duffle bag in the back, not noticing Carson’s cringe when the bag missed his fishing rod by a couple of inches.

Sheppard got in the drivers seat of the rental Range Rover, which had been delivered that morning. He adjusted the seat, then began to adjust the mirrors, as Rodney hopped in the passenger seat beside him.

“What’s eating Ronon; he doesn’t look happy?”

Scoffing, Sheppard glanced back at Carson, who was still fiddling with the placement of his fishing rod. “Ronon is having separation anxiety…I’ve separated him from his blaster for this trip.”

Rodney rolled his eyes, “Well, that can’t be good; he’s going to be in a foul mood the entire trip.”

“So, you’re not going to be in a foul mood then? All that gripping about not wanting to take a vacation because you didn’t want to leave Atlantis to the geeks from Area 51, is over?”

“Bite me, Sheppard; those idiots are heavy-handed, and don’t have the first idea about how delicate the instruments are on Atlantis. No, I don’t like them being there.”

Sheppard started to reply, but he heard the back hatch slam closed. He winced as the hatch glass rattled…Ronon no doubt. Carson piled in the seat behind him, and Ronon on the other side behind Rodney.

“Buckle up, everyone. Then we’ll start our adventure.” Sheppard was grinning, a tad artificially.

Rodney and Carson quickly buckled their seatbelts, but Ronon just sat there. Sheppard was watching him through the rearview mirror, “Ronon…now.”

“Why? We don’t have seatbelts on the jumpers…I don’t see the need.”

“We have inertia dampeners on the jumpers; here we don’t. I would prefer not to have shredded dreadlocks everywhere if we have a wreck.”

“Then don’t wreck.”

“Now, Chewie; it’s the law, and it is an order.” Sheppard glanced around at him, a determined look on his face. Ronon stared at him for a second and then fastened his belt.

As Sheppard turned the ignition, he muttered, “Who thought this trip was a good idea?”

McKay chuckled, “You did.”

Sheppard sighed and with a final look behind him, he drove through the warehouse gate, and onto Doyle Avenue, better known as US 101. The warehouse was located in the Presidio, which was once a military installation. Now run by the National Parks Service, the former Army base still held a few secrets. Some buildings were still under American military control, although the pubic perceived them as storage areas for park maintenance. They passed through the toll area, and began to cross the Golden Gate Bridge.

Sheppard opened the large sun-roof and lowered the windows a bit. The warm late morning air and the salty ocean smell wafted through the SUV.

“Sheppard, that wind is nasty, roll the windows up.” Rodney whined.

“Wimp,” he raised Rodney’s window, then asked, “Anyone else?” With two no’s from the back seat, Sheppard glanced at Rodney, grinning, “Wimp.” McKay ignored him.

They rode in silence across the bridge, taking in the beauty of the bay and the ocean and the peninsula in front of them. As they came off the bridge, even Ronon seemed mesmerized by the view.

“That’s a lot of boats down there.”

“Yeah, that’s Horseshoe Bay and the marina.”

“That’s nice.”

“That it is.”

“So where are we going, colonel?” Beckett asked.

“First, we’re on vacation, call me John. We’re heading first to Sonoma, in the California wine country. An old academy buddy of mine, retired about three years ago, and took over his family’s winery. Thought we would look him up and take a tour; have a taste of good wine.”

“Oh, that sound’s exciting.” Rodney deadpanned. He wasn’t sightseeing. He was pouring over data on his pad.

“I thought you were navigating, not working, McKay.”

“You lost already, Sheppard?” He snarked, “ I mean I know you are directionally challenged, but really, this is a main highway and you’re lost. Why don’t you turn on the GPS, or is our resident flyboy too proud to ask for help?”

“I use nav systems all the time, and you know it. I just haven’t needed the GPS, and no, I am not lost. Now stop working,”

Rodney ignored him. Sheppard glanced over at him, and laughed out loud when Ronon’s arm snaked over the seat. The Satedan snatched the pad out of McKay’s hands.

“What the fuck…give that back,” Rodney whined.

“When Sheppard says you can have it, I’ll give it back.”

“Damn it,” McKay twisted to reach behind him, but the seat belt kept him from turning enough.

Sheppard grinned, “See, Ronon, I told you seat belts were important.”

Ronon was grinning broadly, for the first time since they left, “Yeah, I get it now.”

Rodney turned around. He was frowning; his lips tightly pressed together. “I need that pad.”

“You need to relax. You’ll get the pad back, later.” A harrumph from Rodney was his only reply.

Sheppard turned on the satellite radio, finding an oldies station playing songs from the seventies, eighties, and nineties. They drove on for about fifteen minutes enjoying the tunes, until Rodney spoke.

“I need to stop.”

Sheppard turned down the radio, “What do you mean you need to stop?”

“I need to stop at a service station.”

“Rodney, we will be in Sonoma in about thirty minutes, if you’re hungry, we’ll get lunch there.”

“I’m not hungry; I need to stop.”

Sheppard looked at Rodney, beginning to comprehend, “You need to go, is that what you’re saying?” Rodney nodded and Sheppard snickered.

“Really, you didn’t go before you left Atlantis, like a good boy?”

“Bite me; I was busy making certain I had secured everything so those morons couldn’t destroy anything. I forgot.”

“OK, guys; pit stop, Rodney has to go.” Rodney glared at him.

Sheppard pulled into a food mart, and Rodney vaulted out of the Rover. When he realized the others were following him, the scientist spun around.

“You don’t need to come in with me.”

“Shut up, Rodney; we’re getting something to drink, want to fill ‘er up again?” Sheppard taunted, Beckett slapping him on the back, laughing. Rodney turned around and marched into the store.

They picked out snacks and drinks and were waiting at the counter when Rodney returned. Sheppard tapped his foot, “Come on, Rodney; we haven’t got all day…oh yeah, maybe we do. Get what you want and let’s go. I’m buying.”

About ten minutes later they were back on the road, drinks and snacks in hand. Ronon had become obsessed with Mountain Dew since Atlantis had returned to Earth. The Marines had laid in a supply, and Ronon was hooked. He had a 2-liter bottle of Dew and three packages of chocolate cupcakes. Sheppard tore into his Zingers and water; Beckett had Twinkies and a diet coke. Rodney drank from his diet coke before he began to devour his chocolate cupcakes.

Ronon muttered, his mouth full, chocolate staining his teeth, “Your planet has some great food.”

“First, try to refrain from saying ‘your planet’, might raise some eyebrows. As for the food, well, I don’t think what we are eating is really food.”

“The col…John…is correct; as a physician I can tell you, this is not nutritious,” Beckett sputtered, as he shoved half of a Twinkie into his mouth. Mumbling through the sponge cake, he said, “It is, however, tasty.”

Sheppard turned the radio volume up, and they spent the next fifteen chatting about nothing in particular. Ronon became engrossed in the billboards that lined the highway. He kept them occupied answering his questions about the products or places they were advertising. As they approached Sonoma, Sheppard turned off the main highway and headed through town. Spotting the Valley of the Moon welcome center, he pulled into a parking place.

Beckett asked, “What is the Valley of the Moon?”

“It refers to the valley where a lot of the vineyards in Sonoma are located. Rodney, hop out, go in and get a map of the wineries.”

“What the hell, Sheppard…why do I have to go in there?”

“Because you are closest, Rodney, now go get the map.”

“Let Ronon go.”

“Rodney, you could have been inside and back in the car by now. Go.”

Rodney was muttering as he got out of the car. Beckett laughed softly, remarking, “John; you’re not gonna get him to relax while Atlantis is in the hands of Area 51. He’s most unhappy about them being there.”

“I know, but the IOA forced General Landry to allow the geeks from 51 to inspect Atlantis. I spoke to General O’Neill, and Woolsey; they agreed with me that it would be a good idea to get Rodney away from them. Ronon’s old buddy, James Coolidge, the IOA liaison to the SGC, was going to be there for three weeks, overseeing the inspection or whatever, they are calling it. I doubt we would have had a pleasant experience.”

Ronon looked Sheppard in the eye, “Sheppard, we going home someday?”

“Yeah, big guy, we are. I promise.”

Rodney came out of the visitors’ center and hopped back in the car.” Your map,” he snarked as he handed Sheppard a brochure.

Sheppard opened the brochure to the map and after a second said, “There it is, Appell Lane Vineyard; looks like they serve lunch there as well.” He started the SUV and waited for traffic to clear before he pulled out of the parking place.

“Your friend know we’re coming?” Rodney asked.

“No; I haven’t seen him since right before O’Neill showed up in Antarctica. He was nearing retirement then, always said he would stay in twenty-five years and then come back to the vineyard. He flew a group of VIP’s down to McMurdo for a base inspection, and we spent a few days together.”

“So he doesn’t know about you being a colonel and all now?” Rodney asked.

Sheppard shook his head in reply, “He’ll be surprised; he was pretty pissed at me the last time I saw him.”

“Colonel…John…you haven’t told us his name?” Beckett stumbled again over calling the colonel by his first name.

“Brad Appell; a big guy, he’s almost as tall as Ronon. He’s got pale blond hair, looks like a big surfer dude. He’s married, nice woman named Elaine, and last I heard, he has two kids, Dennis and Melissa….they should be teenagers by now.”

Beckett smiled, “Sounds like you two were good friends.”

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, looking toward Beckett. “We were once, but that was before Afghanistan.”

They drove in silence once more, enjoying the beautiful valley covered in acre after acre of grape vines. The rolling hills, dotted with crystal clear small lakes and ponds, seemed to go on for miles.

“This looks like Italy. It is so beautiful,” Carson remarked.

Rodney, who seemed to have taken an interest in the brochure, replied, “According to this, most of the wines produced here are from Italian varietals.”

“Varietals, what’s that; I thought wine was made from grapes?” Ronon asked.

Before Rodney could say something snarky, Sheppard quickly answered, “That just means the type of grapes that grow in the country of Italy. They grow the same grapes here.”

“That’s where lasagna and spaghetti come from, right? I like that food.”

“Yep, that’s the same place.”

A road sign was coming up and brick structure with brass letters was sitting underneath it, Sheppard slowed down to read it, “There it is, Appell Lane and Appell Lane Vineyards.” He turned onto the narrower road tree-lined road, and after about a half-a-mile they arrived at a wide driveway. The entrance was flanked by two tall brick columns to which heavy wrought iron gates were attached. Above the gates was a graceful curved wrought iron banner with the vineyard name. They pulled into a brick-paved, and crowded, parking area. Sheppard found a spot to park near the sign pointing to the restaurant.

“Anybody hungry?” Sheppard asked as he opened the car door.

Ronon and Rodney answered in unison, “Yes.”

Smiling, Sheppard said, “Then, let’s go eat.”

They walked into the darkened restaurant where a young woman greeted them and escorted them to a table which sat next to a large multi-paned window overlooking a small, beautiful courtyard. As she was handing them menus, Sheppard asked about his friend.

“Is Brad Appell around, I’m an old friend; I like to say hi.”

“Mr. Appell is probably in the receiving house or at the residence. I can see if I can reach him. May I tell him your name?”

“Just tell him, “Shep.”

“I will, sir…uh, Shep.” She smiled coyly at Sheppard, then tossed a glance toward Ronon before she walked away.

Rodney groaned, “I knew this trip was going to be like this, Carson and I ignored while all the women fawn over Conon and the flyboy.” He buried his head in his menu.

“Rodney, stop; she was just being friendly. She thinks we’re friends of her boss. She’s just being nice to us.” Sheppard looked over at Ronon who was grinning; he grinned back.

Their server took their drink order and as he returned with the drinks, Sheppard heard a familiar voice behind him.

“You have got to be f’ing kidding me, Major John Sheppard.”

Sheppard turned, “Yep. It’s me.” He stood up and stuck out his hand. Brad Appell grabbed Sheppard’s arm and pulled him into a bear hug.

Looking considerably uncomfortable, Sheppard pulled away, “Good to see you too, Brad.”

“What the hell are you doing here, major?”

“Not major, and we’re on thirty-day’s leave; out seeing the sights. We were in the neighborhood; so thought I drop by and say hi.”

“Sit,” Brad said, as he pulled a chair over from an empty table. “Hey, guys, welcome to Appell Lane.” Sheppard made the introductions.

“So…on leave, but not a major anymore,” Brad’s voice lowered as he looked at Sheppard. His face was tense, his expression one of regret.

Sheppard glanced over at Rodney, who was staring at him with a pained look on his face. Rodney knew that some of Sheppard’s old teammates had written him off as a failure a long time ago.

Carson, who apparently felt the tension, blurted out, ‘No, John’s a colonel, now.”

Brad’s eyes widened, his surprise evident, “A colonel? You’re a colonel? Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, wow, man, that’s great.”

Sheppard grinned, “I know, hard to believe isn’t it? It’s just colonel though, not lieutenant.” Sheppard waited, not realizing he was holding his breath for Brad’s reaction.

“Holy shit, Shep; man, a full-bird, that’s wicked. This calls for a bottle of our best sparkling wine.” He called the server over, order food for himself, and told him to bring a couple of bottles of 1220.

Rodney asked, “1220? What kind of name is that?”

“McKay.” Sheppard sighed.

“No, he’s right; it’s not the name…it’s the batch number. We haven’t released any sparkling wines yet. We’re about two years from beginning to market it, but we have high hopes. Our vintner wants to tweak it a bit, but it’s pretty close to the result we want.”

Ronon asked, “Vintner, what’s that.”

“He’s our wine maker. He’s Scottish actually.” He smiled at Beckett, “I imagine you will get along with him well, Carson; the accent is almost the same. His mother was from Italy. Her family made wine. He got interested in developing wines and studied both agronomy and chemistry in the UK before he came to America. My dad hired him about fifteen years ago, and he’s really made a difference in the quality of our wine. It was good to begin with, but it’s gotten really good in the last few years.”

The sommelier arrived with the wine, presenting the bottles to Brad, along with five chilled glasses. Brad popped the cork with an ever so sight pop, and poured. Once everyone had a glass, he gave a toast.

“Here is to surprise visits, and to good, old friends and good new friends, and special congratulations to Colonel Sheppard.”

They all took a sip, nodding in approval, and spent the rest of their lunch talking about the area and its history. After lunch, Brad took them on a tour of the winery and then out into the vineyards. It was nearly six in the evening when they returned, to the parking lot.

“So, it’s decided, then; you guys will have dinner with us tonight, and spend the night at my friend’s bed and breakfast. Lainey is looking forward to seeing you, John, and meeting everyone, so we’ll see you at the house around 7:30. Use the gate up the road that I showed you earlier: just press the button and we’ll buzz you in. Carmen and Lorenzo are waiting for you at the B&B. See you, later.”

Once back on the main road, they drove about two miles past Appell Lane to the Sonora Bed and Breakfast. The B& B was in a large, turn-of-the-century Victorian house surrounded by late summer flowers and huge trees.

“Oh, this is lovely.” Carson said as they walked up the steps to the wide veranda, suitcases in hand. Large white wicker chairs and couches with overstuffed flowery cushions adorned the porch, large ferns and pots of flowers sat in every nook.

“A little froufrou, don’t you think?” Rodney snarked.

“Rodney, it goes with the territory.” Sheppard snarked back, and opened the front door.

They were greeted by a warm smile from a small Hispanic woman, “Ah, you must be Brad’s friends.” Sheppard and Carson both said hello, and she continued, “Please, come in; welcome. I am Carmen; my husband and I use to work for Brad’s family. When Lorenzo retired, Brad helped us buy this place. We are honored to have friends of the Appell family stay with us. Come with me and I will show you to your rooms.”

They followed her upstairs, to the third floor, where she showed them to separate rooms. “You are fortunate; starting from next weekend, the Labor Day holiday, we are booked through New Years. This week we purposely took only a few reservations in order to do some renovations. So we have this entire floor available. Please let me know if you need anything.”

They were to meet in the lobby at 7:15, and everyone, save Rodney, was punctual. After a couple of minutes, Sheppard fumed, “I shouldn’t have given him that damn pad back.” He headed up the stairs.

Knocking on Rodney’s door, he heard a distracted ‘come in’. He opened the door slowly. “Rodney you better be ready. Come on, let’s go.” Peeking in, he saw Rodney sitting on the bed in his skivvies working on his pad. “Damn it, McKay, get dressed, we’ve got to leave.”

“Just a minute, I just want to…” he stopped as Sheppard grabbed the pad from him, and then picked Rodney’s slacks up off the chair. “Put these on and get down stairs; you can have the pad back in the car.” Sheppard turned to leave, with Rodney muttering behind him.

“Sheppard, I am not a child, give me back my pad.”

As he descended the stairs, he called back, “Then don’t act like one.” What Rodney couldn’t see was the wide grin on Sheppard’s face.

When Rodney arrived a few minutes later, he found that the others were in the SUV waiting for him. He got in the car, and Sheppard handed him the pad.

“Tell me we won’t need to make a pit stop before we get to Brad’s.” Sheppard quipped as he pulled away.

“Bite me,” he sneered, then when he heard the snickering from the back seat, he added, “all of you.”

Beckett laughed, “Come on, Rodney; lighten up. We’re on vacation, we are in a beautiful place, meeting nice people, and about to have a wonderful meal. You need to chill out.”

“I would be ‘chilled out’ if you would all leave me alone.”

By the time they arrived at Brad’s house, Rodney had settled down, even joining in the conversation about staying the night in the area. After being buzzed through the gate, they drove down a landscaped driveway to a large two-story brick house. A tall young man around fifteen or so, was waiting and waved them around the house to a parking area on the side of the house. As they got out of the car, the youth approached the car.

“Colonel Sheppard, I’m Denny, welcome.” He shook hands with Sheppard and then with the others. “My mom and dad are on the deck out back, follow me please.”

Elaine Appell spotted them first, “John Sheppard. I never thought I would see you again.” She met them at the top of the stairs and gave John a hug,” Congrats, Shep, Brad told me about your promotion. That’s great.” She turned to greet the others, John making the introductions.

“Come on, let’s get some wine for you, Brad brought some of the good stuff home.” The attractive brunette led them to the bar. As everyone was beginning to relax, she walked over to Sheppard.

“Well, you’re as handsome as ever, John.” He blushed, and she continued, “And still embarrassed when someone pays you a compliment.”

“Some things never changed, Lainey.”

“And some things do, Brad heard a few years ago that you and Nancy divorced; I’m sorry, John. She was nice, I hate that it didn’t work out for you. Some of my fondest memories are from that first year we all spent at Hurlburt.”

“She wasn’t like you, Lainey; she never understood what Brad and I did. You accepted that he couldn’t tell you anything about his work, Nancy couldn’t, or wouldn’t.”

“Don’t think because I’m still here that I was always understanding, John. I wasn’t; especially after Denny was born. Every time that damn phone would ring, and Brad would leave, I called the Air Force every vile name I could think of. But I figured out how to deal with the frustration; some people can’t. Then once Lissa came along, I had too much to do to worry about it. We were just the lucky ones, John.”

He smiled at her, “Yeah, you are. Speaking of Lissa, where is she? She’s what, thirteen now?”

“Fourteen and Denny’s sixteen, where does the time go? Lissa is on a school trip; her civics class has gone to Sacramento to intern with the legislature this week. I’m sorry that she wasn’t here to see you.”

The vintner for the winery, Douglas Scott, arrived. Immediately, Carson and Rodney were engrossed in conversation with the Scottish native. Ronon had struck up a conversation with Denny. From what Sheppard could hear, they were talking about karate, which Ronon was learning from one of the Marines. They sat around the table as Brad slaved over the grill, and Lainey brought out food from the house.

It wasn’t long before Brad brought a platter of t-bone steaks to the table, he put a steak on everyone’s plate, but when he got to Ronon, as he gave him two steaks. “Hey, I remember my appetite when I was your age; you get two.” Everyone laughed and they spent the next hour eating as Brad and Sheppard exchanged stories from their days at the Air Force academy and their first tours of duty. As the sun set, the air became cooler and even the large fire-pit wasn’t enough to keep them warm.

“Come on inside, guys, there’s dessert.” Lainey started clearing dishes with Denny and Carson’s help. Carson had insisted, saying his “wee mother’ would be upset if he didn’t help.

The interior of the Appell home was warm and cozy, filled with family pictures. A photo on a shelf in a large bookcase caught Sheppard’s eye. He walked over to get a closer look. Picking up the frame, he smiled; the photo was of Brad and him in Afghanistan. They were both SO pilots at the time, and had just returned from a mission. Sheppard chuckled to himself; they were young and carefree back then, thought they were invincible. Now he knew they were just lucky.

“Those were the days, weren’t they Shep.”

He turned to see Brad behind him, “Yeah. I sometimes wonder what happened to that John Sheppard.”

“I was wondering that myself. You’re different now; a good different, I think. You were always the best pilot, later the best covert operative around, but you pushed back hard against everyone. I suppose maturity has something to do with it; it certainly helped me.

“You saying I’m getting old?

Brad laughed, “Well, considering I am the same age as you, if you’re getting old, I am, too. But you, I think it’s more than maturity, something tells me you have seen a lot these last few years.”

Sheppard didn’t say anything. Brad watched him for a second, “Whatever it is that you do that has gotten you promoted to colonel, and allows you to have such an eclectic group of ‘teammates,’ I figure it must be pretty important.”

“Eclectic, huh…I’ve heard them called a lot of things, but eclectic…that’s a new one.”

“Can’t tell me, can you?”

“No; just another day in the Air Force.” Sheppard looked back down at the picture.

“John.”

Sheppard turned his head quickly toward Brad, he rarely called him anything but Shep. Hearing his friend use ‘John’ surprised him.

“Look, I know you are well aware that a lot of us were mad at you. But we weren’t mad at what you did, but that you allowed yourself to be put in a position that jeopardized your career. That damn CO only wanted to cover his ass. He didn’t care about those men or about you, just himself. Any other CO would have looked the other way, but then any other CO would have most likely ordered a rescue mission. It was a bad situation.”

“Yeah, I know, but just so you know, I’d do all over again.”

Brad shook his head, “That I don’t doubt.”

Lainey’s head popped around the corner, “Guys, dessert’s ready; come on.”

Sheppard placed the picture back on the shelf and started to move toward the kitchen when Brad grabbed his arm. “You never knew that one of the reasons we were angry is that you didn’t ask for help. If even one of us had gone with you, much less more of us, that bastard would have had to look the other way.”

“I didn’t want to risk ruining anyone else’s career. Besides, I didn’t think anyone would come with me.”

“Shep, you never asked.”

Staring at his friend, Sheppard felt his heart leap into his throat. “I…I’d still do it the same way, Brad. But I have learned a valuable lesson in the last few years. I have learned to trust people; I didn’t before, even when I knew I could.”

“That’s the best lesson of all,” he said quietly as he squeezed Sheppard’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go get dessert, Lainey made a couple of apple pies today. I think it’s gonna work out to be one pie for Ronon and one for the rest of us to share.”

After dessert, Carson and Rodney went to Douglas Scott’s lab; Rodney anxious to see the chemistry behind wine making. Denny had gone upstairs early to study. Around 11:00 PM, Sheppard and Ronon left Brad and Lainey with a promise to return, and headed to pick up Carson and Rodney.

When they arrived at the main vineyard building, Ronon jumped out to round up the other two. He came to the door a couple of minutes later, motioning for Sheppard to come with him.

Sheppard caught up with him, “Why are you laughing?

“I think they have enjoyed themselves too much.” He opened the door to the tasting room and Sheppard moaned.

“Oh no…” At one of the round tables near the bar, Carson, Rodney, and Douglas had all passed out; several empty bottles of wine sitting on the table. “Rodney sober is tough enough, but Rodney with a hangover, I don’t even want to think about it. Come on, let’s see if we can roust them.”

It took some doing, but they managed to get them all awake. Douglas lived in an apartment above the wine tasting room, so Ronon made certain he got up the stairs and inside. He returned to help Sheppard get their teammates to the car.

As Ronon returned to the tasting room, Rodney was giggling. “Your hair is funny. Isn’t his hair funny?” He turned his entire body toward Carson, who was sitting stiffly on the chair that Sheppard had sat him on three times.

“Ronon, get Rodney to the car; I’ll get Carson.”

It was a struggle, because Rodney wanted to help Sheppard with Carson and kept trying to get away from Ronon. Finally, they got their two inebriated teammates into the back seat of the SUV and strapped in.

When the SUV started moving, Carson became more alert, “Where am I?”

“In the car, Carson, we’re headed for the B&B.”

“Can ya keep the car straight, laddie. This weaving is making me sick.”

“The road’s straight Carson, you’re the one weaving.” Sheppard chuckled.

Ronon grinned, “This trip is going to be more fun than I thought.”

“Not for those two.”

They had just turned onto the main road when Carson groaned, “Colonel, stop; I’m gonna be sick.”

Sheppard quickly pulled off the road, unlocked Carson’s door and jumped out, yelling at Ronon to keep an eye on Rodney. As Sheppard rounded the back of the SUV, Carson had gotten the door open and was hanging out of the car, puking. Grabbing the doctor to steady him, he looked at Ronon, who had opened his door, “No, no fun at all.”

~~ooOoo~~

Golden sunlight spilled through the sheer drapes into Sheppard’s room as he slowly came awake. He stretched, taking a few minutes to enjoy the comfort of a big bed. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was 6:30 AM, much later than he usually slept. He decided it was the relaxing day, fresh air, and good food that allowed him to sleep. As he raised his head, and realized it was throbbing, he decided his long nap was probably due to the wine. Remembering the shape Carson and Rodney were in when they got back to the B&B, he decided he should get up and check on them.

Sheppard swung his long legs off the bed and forced himself to get up. As he headed for the bathroom, he thought about last night when they finally arrived and struggled to get Carson and Rodney to their rooms. He had taken care of Carson, while Ronon practically carried Rodney up the two flights of stairs. They had tried to be quiet, but Rodney was in a jovial mood. Rodney’s chatter had awakened Lorenzo, who was kind enough to help Sheppard with Carson. Carmen had shown up with ginger ale and apple juice, telling Sheppard they took care of a lot of guests who overindulged in wine tasting.

He splashed water on his face, deciding what he needed was a long run and a long hot shower, and he would feel much better. He grabbed his running clothes, dressed, then searched the floor for the shoes he had kicked off last night. Grabbing a water bottle from the mini-refrigerator, he headed out, after peeking into Rodney and Carson’s rooms. Both men were sleeping soundly.

Walking out onto the veranda, Sheppard smiled. Nothing like a morning in California, the hills were golden in the morning sun. Groves of green trees scattered across the hills, looked like emeralds against the gold. He started down the steps when he was startled by a voice behind him.

“I was about to give up on you, thought you were going to sleep all morning.”

He turned to see Ronon sprawled across one of the wicker settees. He grinned, “You running or not?” Sheppard bolted down the remaining steps and took off. Within a couple of seconds, Ronon ran past him.

They ran down the lane away from the house, through what seemed to be endless miles of grapevines. Sheppard sprinted ahead once or twice, but Ronon with his longer legs always overtook him. They ran for a long time, and it was nearly 8:00 AM when they returned to the house.

As they stepped on the porch, Carmen brought out a tray with a carafe of coffee, cups, and a plate of pastries. “I saw you boys coming back down the lane from the vineyards, thought you might like some coffee.” She sat the tray down on a small table between two chairs.

“Thank you, coffee and something in my stomach sounds really good right now.”

“I thought it would. Don’t worry about your friends, I checked on them, and took juice and rolls to them. The best I can say for them right now is that they are breathing, but they’ll recover.” She left them alone to enjoy breakfast.

Sheppard poured coffee and held up the pot toward Ronon, “Want some?”

Ronon smiled, holding up a Mountain Dew. “Carmen keeps a supply of these here; her son loves Dew. I will have a couple of those,” he said as he grabbed a couple of pastries.

Chuckling, Sheppard said, “Yeah, like I wasn’t expecting that.”

They ate in silence, just enjoying the morning. Ronon was chewing on his fourth cinnamon roll, when he finally spoke, “Sheppard, this doesn’t seem right.”

“What doesn’t seem right?”

“You know.”

Sheppard rubbed his eyes, “Yeah, I know, we seem to be a team member short. Ronon; Teyla wanted to go home. She didn’t want Kanaan wondering if she and Torren were dead or alive. Besides, her people are stranded on New Lantia without a stargate. They’re going to need supplies. You can’t blame her.”

“I don’t. I just wish we had all gone back at the same time.”

“Look, we didn’t think anyone was going to be able to go back. I pretty sure Sam put pressure on O’Neill to make this happen, so that Teyla could go home. O’Neill put pressure on the IOA to request the mission. Daedalus was ordered to go back to Pegasus to assess status of the Wraith after we left. Landry just made certain there were lots of supplies on board.”

“We should have gone with her.”

“Ronon, you could have; I told you that.” Sheppard was beginning to feel uncomfortable, this was not a subject he wanted to rehash.

“But since none of the rest of you could go; I wasn’t going either.”

“Yeah, big guy, I know that. We’re all glad you stayed.”

“But you are certain we are going home. I mean I know it’s not your home, but…”

“Atlantis and Pegasus are home to me, to Rodney, to nearly everyone assigned to Atlantis.”

“But your planet is so beautiful, why don’t you want to stay?”

Sheppard didn’t say anything for a bit and Ronon waited him out. Sheppard poured more coffee, took a sip, and replied, “This is a beautiful place, but I don’t feel like I belong anymore. Maybe it’s the gene and the connection I have with Atlantis, but I…I’d just rather be there.”

“And we are returning.”

“Yes, we will return.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’m going to take a shower.”

Grabbing another roll, Ronon went inside, leaving Sheppard alone on the porch. He drank more coffee and leaned back in the chair. Only one thought in his head, “We are going home; I promise.”

Sheppard headed upstairs about fifteen minutes later, showered and packed up his stuff. Ronon was already downstairs when he came down, as were a groggy Rodney and Carson. They were sitting at a table in the dining area; heads hung down over coffee mugs, two empty water bottles sitting on the table.

Sheppard grinned, “Well, look who’s up. How’s the hangover?” He sat down, waiting for an answer.

“Bite me,” surprisingly came from Carson and not Rodney.

“That bad, huh?”

“Sheppard…go away…leave us to our misery,” that from Rodney.

“Sorry, can’t do that; it’s nearly 10 am and I want to be on the road soon. You guys need to get a move on. Ronon and I are going back to the vineyard to pick up some wine.” At the word wine, both men shuddered and Sheppard repressed a laugh. “I think Woolsey will enjoy Appell Lane’s wine. So, be ready to leave when we get back.” He got up and as he walked past Rodney, gave him a slap on the back. All he heard from Rodney was a deep groan.

He and Ronon stopped by the winery, gassed up the Rover, and then returned for their buddies. After thanking Carmen and Lorenzo and insisting that the couple accepted payment for their stay, the four men piled into the Range Rover.

“So, where the hell are we going today,” the shaky voice belonged to Rodney.

“We are headed over to Sacramento, then down Highway 99 through the Central Valley farm country. We’re stopping in Bakersfield tonight, and tomorrow on to Las Vegas.”

Rodney groaned.


	2. Bakersfield Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wine country is in their rear view mirror and the guys are headed for Vegas.

**Trip Segment Two: Bakersfield Bound**

Sheppard was daydreaming. Well, if forced to, he would admit he wasn’t daydreaming; he had virtually stopped thinking at all. He had always loved to drive, and he was in tune with the car, the road, and the traffic. Any thoughts that drifted into his mind seemed to float away just as quickly.

A little over two hours had passed since they left Sonoma, and they traveled through communities deep in the Central Valley area. There were miles of farmland flashing past as they headed down Highway 99. Truckloads of fresh fruits and vegetables seemed to be emerging from every side road.

Ronon had been quiet for most of the trip; they were trying to keep from waking up the still hung-over Rodney and Carson. Both remained a bit queasy, and had fallen asleep as soon as Sheppard had pulled away from the B&B. Sheppard tuned the satellite radio to smooth jazz station to keep the music mellow, and to drown out Carson’s snoring. As they passed a sign announcing the entrance to yet another mega-farm, Ronon finally spoke.

“Sheppard, there’s so much food grown here, but you told us once that people go hungry here. I don’t get it. There’s enough food in those fields to feed all of Sateda, and there were a lot of people there.”

“That’s a good question. There really isn’t an excuse; we’re capable of producing enough food to feed the hungry but…” he sighed. “It doesn’t seem right that anyone should go hungry, but they do. I think it’s the politicians…too busy worrying about themselves and not about the people.”

Ronon grunted, “I know about that. The government officials on Sateda abandoned the people in the end; to save themselves. I guess they are the same everywhere.”

“C…colonel?” A muddled voice asked.

“Carson, you finally decide to join us?”

“Barely, lad; I need something to drink, water or juice. Any chance we could stop for some juices?”

Sheppard smiled, “Yeah; I think we can do that; we’re almost in Modesto. There’s water in the cooler right behind your seat, if you want.”

They drove on for a mile or so when Sheppard spotted a strip mall, “Juice coming up, Carson.”

“Thanks.”

“I want coffee, Sheppard.” Rodney uttered in a gravely voice.

“No more coffee, it’ll just dehydrate you more…you need water or juice. Here.” Carson retrieved another bottle from the cooler and handed it to Rodney.

“How ya feeling, buddy?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney groaned, and Ronon turned to look at him. He looked back at Sheppard, “They look pretty green.” He was grinning.

Sheppard pulled off Highway 99, onto a busy commercial street on the fringes of Modesto. He parked and went inside a grocery store, grabbing bottles of apple and cranberry juice, along with some cookies from the bakery. He took those back to the car, then walked across the parking lot to a Starbucks for coffee. Returned to the SUV with two tall cups, he handed one to Ronon, and then passed out the cookies.

“Here’s a cookie to tide you over; Brad told me about a diner on the other side of Modesto. It’s supposed to serve the best hamburgers in California; nothing like a greasy hamburger when you’ve got a hangover.”

He waited for an answer and when he didn’t get one, Sheppard looked at Ronon. “No snarky or cheeky comments from the back seat? Ummm…they are in bad shape.”  
Ronon was staring at the paper cup in his hand. It was filled with frothy foam, “What’s this?”

“I don’t know, some kind of mocha caramel latte thing, since you aren’t overly fond of coffee, thought you might like that. It’s sweet.”

Ronon took a drink, then nodded in approval, taking an even bigger sip. When he looked back at Sheppard, his upper lip was covered in white foam and he was grinning, “That’s good.”

Sheppard laughed. “OK, next stop, lunch.”

Reaching over to flip on the GPS, he punched Meg’s Diner into the GPS, and a female voice came on giving directions. He wasn’t surprised when Rodney commented.

“Finally decide that you needed help finding your way around?”

“Well, since my unofficial navigator took himself out by drinking too much, I decided I would use the GPS. I want to make certain that we find the diner quickly; I think you two need some food.”

“Yeah…whatever. I want that coffee and some aspirin.”

Carson sniped back, “I told you no, drink your water and juice…all of it. No aspirin for you right now…all you need is fluid.”

After passing through Modesto, they followed the GPS directions off of Highway 99 and soon Meg’s Diner loomed into view. Sheppard pulled in, finding a parking place near the door.

“Colonel, can you open the boot?” Beckett asked.

Sheppard popped the rear hatch door and got out of the car, opening Rodney’s door.

“Come on, time to start moving around; it’ll be good for you.” Rodney frowned, but got out of the car.

Carson reached for his medical kit, and pulled out a bottle of dark red pills. He downed a couple, then called to Rodney, “Here, take these, super strong vitamins; they’ll help.”

Rodney took the pills from Carson, “If it helps my head, anything.”

It was shortly after 1:00 PM, and the diner was crowded. They waited for a booth being cleaned about half-way down the aisle along the counter. When the bus boy finished, Rodney started to slide along the bench seat first, until Carson stopped him.

“I think it would be better if we sat on the outside; not sure if I’m ready for lunch or not.”

Sheppard grimaced, “Sounds like a good idea.”

Grabbing a menu, Sheppard remarked, as he looked at the offerings, “Man, been a long time since I have seen a menu like this. Look at this, ‘Fried Chili Fries’; French fries, smothered in chili and cheese with a fried egg on top…yummy.”

“That’s good?” Ronon asked.

“Yeah, Chewie, it’s good; it’s not good for you, but it’s good.”

A woman, dressed in a waitress outfit right out of the fifties, walked up. “Hi, boys. What can I get for ya.”

Sheppard grinned, “Put this on one tab, please. I’d like a Big Burger with cheese and fries. For the big guy here, bring him the same and an order of the Fried Chili Fries. Water for me and Mountain Dew for him. Carson, Rodney?”

Carson quietly said, “ A cheeseburger, and water.” Rodney mumbled the same.

As Carson reached in his pocket for his sunglasses, the waitress asked Sheppard, “Looks like your buddies must have had a good time last night.”

Sheppard laughed, “Yeah, they did.”

Carson dropped his head into his hands, “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Yeah, well, you were the one who said kept saying how great the wine was, and your buddy just kept bringing more bottles out. Just another taste, you kept saying. You weren’t thinking. I should have been.” Rodney sighed deeply, laying his head back against the high back of the booth seat.

“Hey, don’t beat yourselves up, guys. You’re on vacation. You should relax and let your hair down, enjoy life.” Sheppard said.

“I am not enjoying this.” Rodney replied.

“I am,” Ronon quipped, eliciting a glare from Sheppard. “What? They’re funny; like you’ve never been hung over, Sheppard.”

“Yeah, I have; that’s why it’s not funny.” As he looked at Carson sitting next to him and Rodney across the table, both looking miserable, he added, “Well, not too funny.”

The waitress brought their food, and as they ate, Rodney and Carson became more and more alert. Fluids and food in their stomachs seemed to chase the cobwebs away. Sheppard knew that the telltale sign they were feeling better was when the bickering began.

“Rodney; stop complaining. I didn’t force ya to drink.”

“No, you just insisted that we try every type of wine they made. You were having way too much fun with your Scottish buddy.”

“You; you kept asking Douglas all those technical details about the chemistry of making wine. He was bringing out bottles to show ya how doing this or that changed the flavors.”

“I was just tasting, but you…you were chugging back the wine like it was water.”

“That wine didn’t drink itself. I…”

“OK, boys, enough; you both drank too much, and you only have yourself to blame. I told you to stop beating yourselves up over it. You’re supposed to be relaxing, and for once, it’s nice to be able to do so without worrying about what’s over our shoulder. Now hush.”

Carson stared at Sheppard for a moment, “It was fun, despite getting trashed. Your friends are good people, col…John. It was a good day; if it didn’t end well, that’s our own fault.”

“Come on, let’s get on the road; we have another four hours or so before we reach Bakersfield.” Sheppard paid the bill, and they piled back into the car. After stopping to fill the SUV with gas, Sheppard headed south down Highway 99.

~~ooOoo~~

“Hey, Sheppard, is this all you do on this planet…eat?”

Sheppard looked over at Ronon, who was devouring an extra-large, chocolate-dipped, soft serve ice cream cone. About three times bigger than the cone he and Beckett had gotten. They had just exited the drive-through at a Dairy Queen, and were back on Highway 99, about an hour from Bakersfield.

“No, we do other things, but I guess when cooped up in a car with nothing better to do, food is a way to pass the time.”

“This is good.” Ronon mumbled.

“Sheppard, why are we staying in Bakersfield? I figured you be pushing to reach Vegas.” He was sucking on a straw stuck in a large strawberry milkshake.

“You in a hurry, McKay?”

“It’s Bakersfield, what the hell is there in Bakersfield?”

“I don’t want to rush this trip. We have no reason to push; we have a month before we have to return to Atlantis. Let’s just kick back and enjoy ourselves. We haven’t been able to do that in a long time.”

“Bakersfield…they sing country music there.” Rodney whined.

“Watch it, McKay…”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot; the great Johnny Cash is a country singer,” Rodney snarked.  
Sheppard was about to snark back when he noticed the eighteen-wheeler behind him was beginning to swerve into the left lane. The large truck nearly hit a car that was speeding past in the left lane. The car sped by them so fast that the Rover shuddered in the concussion of wind.

“What the hell?” McKay yelled.

Sheppard didn’t answer; he was busy watching the truck that was still weaving erratically behind him. In the rear view mirror, he could see the driver’s face, but couldn’t tell if the driver’s expression was one of anger or panic. He pressed the gas pedal down to put some distance between the Range Rover and the truck.

“Sheppard, watch out!” Ronon had turned around to see what was behind them, noticing movement along the shoulder of the road. First, one large motorcycle emerged from beside the truck, then two more; they were racing toward the Rover.

As Ronon was warning him about the motorcycles coming up on his right, he saw the front of another pulling around the truck. Within seconds, at least seven bikes were surrounding them, weaving back and forth around their vehicle.

Sheppard had two concerns, other than keeping his friends safe; one, whether the truck behind him was going to remain in control, and the other was the fact that they were coming up on a group of slower moving cars and produce trucks. The car that had sped past them earlier was now caught at the back of the pack, trying to force his way through.

“Guys, tell me you have your seat belts on; this could get ugly.” Sheppard didn’t look around; he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road. “Ronon; now might be a good time to get those guns from the glove compartment.”

A huge, powerful motorcycle pulled up next to him, and Sheppard made eye contact with the large, goateed man sitting astride it. The guy appeared as big as Ronon and clearly had the intention of running them off the road. He kept nudging the big cycle toward the SUV, eventually starting to ram into the drivers’ door and front fender. Sheppard quickly jerked the wheel to the left and caught the cycle’s front wheel, sending it careening toward the median. The bike wobbled wildly, but the rider got it back under control.

“Crap, I think I only made him mad.”

A bump from behind and he saw two bikes pushing up against the bumper. Through the roar from the motorcycles, he could hear Rodney calling 911. He seriously considered slamming on the brakes, but those motorcycles were powerful. Together they might have enough force to push the Range Rover out of control. At the speeds they were traveling, it was a chance he couldn’t take.

“Guys, we are going to have some problems in a couple of minutes, once we catch up with those cars and trucks. These guys are having fun, scaring everyone; they’re gonna want to cause as much havoc as they can. They won’t care if they cause a wreck; I think they’d like it.”

“Sheppard, I called 911. They’re dispatching CHP and local units.”

Sheppard only nodded as they caught up with the traffic in front of them. The cycles, he now counted at least twelve of them, began to weave in and out of the cars and trucks. A couple of cars tried to pull off the road, but were cut off by several bikes. One car recovered and got back onto the road, but the other lost control. His front tires caught the guardrail, jumped the barricade, and rolled down the embankment.

Beckett called out, “Colonel, we need to stop. They could be injured.”

“We can’t, not yet, Carson. Rodney let 911 know…”

They were bumped from behind, then from the right rear corner, sending the Range Rover into the left lane. Sheppard struggled with the wheel, but managed to straighten the vehicle, keeping it on the road. He heard the sound of hydraulic brakes and the squealing of tires behind him. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he saw the eighteen-wheeler careening out of control. The truck slid off the road, slamming into the center median guardrail, which was not tall enough to slow the momentum of the large truck. It toppled onto its side and continued to slide along the metal railing. From behind the truck, at least five more bikes appeared and quickly joined their fellow riders who were beginning to torment the pack of vehicles in front of them.

It didn’t take long for what Sheppard feared would happen, to happen. A car, driven by a young driver, lost control, and slammed into a produce truck that ran off the road, spilling its load of cantaloupes. The hard fruit began bouncing across the highway; two more cars struck each other and the melee began. Only luck and skill kept Sheppard from wrecking the SUV. He slid to a stop along the edge of the road, only feet from a paneled van that had struck one of the motorcycles.

“Ronon, with me. You two, stay in the car until I tell you it’s OK.”

Ronon handed Sheppard his weapon, and they exited the car, hurrying toward the van, to check on its occupants. Sheppard had just reached the van when Ronon yelled, “Behind you."

Most of the motorcycles had continued on, harassing the pack of cars and trucks, but two of them stayed back, apparently targeting Sheppard and Ronon. Both bikes were heading toward them at a high rate of speed.

"Tires, hit the tires,” Sheppard yelled. He and Ronon took aim and within seconds, the bikes were on their sides, sliding along the roadway, riders tumbling along beside them.

As the dust and noise settled, Sheppard heard sirens in the background and spotted the red and blue lights of the police and EMT units heading their way.

Carson and Rodney had jumped from the Rover, Carson grabbing his med kit. Sheppard and Ronon checked on the motorcyclists; both were alive but injured.

Two CHP motorcycle officers skidded to a stop, along with an ambulance. Sheppard told Ronon, “Put your gun on the ground and step away from it.” When Ronon hesitated, Sheppard growled, “Do it, they’ll ask questions after they shoot us, if you don’t. Keep your hands away from your body.”

The CHP’s approached, guns drawn but not raised; one asked, “Who are you?”

“Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force; this is Ronon Dex, civilian contractor.” He pointed to Carson and Rodney, “That’s Dr. Carson Beckett, medical doctor, and Dr. Rodney McKay, scientist. They’re also civilian contractors with the Air Force.”

“Those weapons, yours?”

Sheppard nodded, “The permits are in the car; can I get my ID out?” The officer nodded and Sheppard handed over his ID to the officer, while the other officer retrieved the weapons.

The CHP officer relaxed, “Seems to be in order, but we’ll just keep the weapons for a minute. I’m Sergeant Harper; out here on Air Force business, colonel?”

“No, sergeant, we’re on leave, headed for Vegas; wasn’t expecting this.”

“We’ve been getting reports all day about this gang. The bikes all have Montana and Idaho tags. I think they are some kind of militia group, not just a regular motorcycle gang or club, most of them are non-violent. These bastards have been damn good about eluding us; this is the first time that any of them have been caught. Tell me what happened.”

As Sheppard recounted the events, more police and ambulances arrived. Carson began to assist with triage, while the CHP took statements from Ronon and Rodney. It was an hour later, before the CHP officer released them.

“We were lucky, got some badly injured civilians but no deaths. However, we only caught five of them; the rest are still out there roaming around.” He shook Sheppard’s hand, “Colonel, there’s another accident scene about a mile and a half down the road, be careful. I’ve radioed ahead, so they’ll let you through. Keep on the lookout, the rest of them got away again.”

As Sheppard and the others headed for the SUV, the officer added, “Colonel, Dex, that was some damn good shooting to take those bikes down. Thanks for helping us get those guys off the roads.” Sheppard threw up his hand in reply, and they got into the SUV. Ronon secured the weapons in the glove compartment, and Sheppard pulled back on to the road. None of them spoke until they had cleared the second accident scene. There were still several ambulances, fire and police units working the site, at least seven cars had been involved in the crash and one bike.

As they resumed normal speed, the road in front of them was deserted with all the traffic blocked behind them. Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror to see Carson still looking behind them at the fading lights.

“Carson, those people are in good hands; you did all you could.”

“Well, I don’t feel that way. I should have stayed and helped.”

Rodney glanced at his friend, “Sheppard’s right; you did enough. Those guys will take care of the injured.”

“Well, I know I could use a drink.” Carson muttered.

Sheppard chuckled, “Hair of the dog?”

“Something like that, my nerves are shattered.”

Sheppard shook his head, “You don’t flinch when the Wraith come knocking, but a gang of bikers sets you off. Well, don’t feel like the lone ranger, I could use a drink, too. Let’s get through Bakersfield, find a hotel, then go get some steaks or ribs and relax.”

“More food…” Ronon pondered, then grinned, “Yeah; I can do that.”

Sheppard wanted to make a straight run to Vegas the next morning, so they drove through Bakersfield before finding a hotel. They checked into a nice hotel off the main road. Retiring to their respective rooms, they agreed to meet in the lobby in thirty minutes. As usual, they were all on time, except for Rodney.

Sheppard, who was sprawled across a small couch, sighed and started to get up. “I’ll go get him.”

Ronon, however, was quicker. “No, I’ll get him,” and he headed for the elevator. About five minutes later, he came down with a pissed off Rodney in tow.

“You,” he pointed to Sheppard, “had to send Conan for me. He damn near broke my door down.”

Sheppard was still sprawled on the couch, “I don’t know about you, Carson, but I think McKay could have used more time.”

Carson smiled, “Yes, John. I believe you are right. I think he needed more time to dress. Rodney, where the hell do you get those shirts?”

“Har de har har, like you look like some kind of fashion plate. That goes double for ‘Mr. Rumpled Shirt’ over there; he certainly looks like he stepped off the pages of GQ, not. Come on, let’s go get something to eat, I’m starved.”

Rodney stalked out of the entrance, Carson right behind him. As Sheppard walked out with Ronon, he remarked, “What the hell’s wrong with my shirt?” Ronon just slapped him on the shoulder, and headed for the Range Rover.

Sheppard had asked at the front desk for a good steakhouse, and was given directions to a roadhouse that the desk clerk said had the best steaks in Bakersfield. About twenty minutes later, and one wrong turn, which Rodney snarked about, they pulled into a crowded parking lot surrounding a large rough wood building sporting a large bright neon sign that said ‘Roadhouse’.

“See, the food must be great, let’s go in.”

“Sheppard, that place has to be full of cowboys. We are so gonna get killed.”

“McKay, shut up,” Ronon grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the Rover.

They walked into a lively, crowded restaurant with a stage and a dance floor. To Rodney’s surprise, the patrons were young and old, some in suits, some in blue jeans, several families having dinner. There were screens everywhere showing sports, old movies, and cartoons; beer was flowing, but the atmosphere had a fun vibe about it.  
“See, not so bad, Rodney; not bad at all.” Sheppard grinned as a hostess led them to an oversized booth toward the back of the room. They ordered a couple of pitchers of beer from their server, whose name was Chris.

When Chris returned with the beer and four frosty mugs, Beckett asked, “Laddie, do ya have live music here at night?”

“Yes, sir; we have a band that plays starting at 10, most of the families have left by then but sometimes, some with older kids stay and let their kids dance. It’s a fun place but still OK for kids to hang around. We don’t even have security here. Now, guys, made up your mind what you want?”

After Chris took their orders, Sheppard poured beer for everyone. He laughed as he saw Rodney pick up the mug, gazing at the frothy beer with suspicion. “That beer isn’t going to attack you, Rodney.”

Rodney looked over at Sheppard, “I…I…that’s what I thought about the wine last night. I’m not so sure about this…”

“You don’t have to drink it, Rodney.” Beckett quipped, then downed a big gulp from his mug.

“Carson’s right, you don’t have to drink. But if you do, just take it slow.”

As they waited for their food, they ate from the large popcorn bowl on the table and talked about the last twenty-four hours. They agreed that their wine country visit, sans the over imbibing, had been a lot of fun.

“Well, this afternoon wasn’t fun; those bikers were a piece of work.” Beckett remarked.

Ronon was on his second mug of beer, “Somebody acting like that on…” he caught himself before he said Sateda, “at home, would be severely dealt with.”

Sheppard answered, “We are a nation of laws, and there was certainly more than enough evidence to put the guys they captured in jail for a long time. I would imagine the local police departments and California Highway Patrol are looking for the others.”

“The reason you had to send Conon after me was that I was watching a local news update on the accidents. Good news, there were some serious injuries but no one was killed. Bad news, they only caught three of them, the rest are still out there roaming around.”

“Well, I imagine they high-tailed it out of this area since the cops are searching. So at least, we won’t have to deal with them again.” Sheppard leaned back in the curve of the booth, beer in hand. He was beginning to feel the events of the afternoon fade away.

“I’m thankful no one died because of those buggers.” Beckett replied.

Sheppard nodded, “It was hairy there for a few minutes, but the good thing is that we got through it, and we are having a nice dinner in a nice place, far away from those bastards.”

“Speaking of food,” Ronon grinned and pointed to two servers carrying large trays of food, heading their way. He punched Sheppard in the arm, “I’m beginning to like it here.” Ronon’s enthusiasm, a rarity for him, set off laughter by his teammates.

They ate, drank more beer, and laughed as Beckett regaled them with stories of his college days, and his nights at the local pubs.. They had just finished their meal when the band took the stage. The music was classic Bakersfield country, but even Rodney seemed to be enjoying the band.

Sheppard had stretched his long legs out underneath the large table. He felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. On Atlantis, even in those rare times when events were mundane, he could never completely unwind. There were simply too many souls he was responsible for to allow himself to relax, even a bit. Here, however, he finally felt he could just kick-back and enjoy the evening. He had been scanning the crowd, which had thinned out considerably. It was a Tuesday night, so probably not the busiest night for the roadhouse. He was content to watch the few patrons that were dancing, and listen to the music. What he was enjoying the most, however, was hearing his teammates laugh.

At least, he was enjoying himself until the little hairs on the back of his neck began to stand-up. His spidy sense was kicking into high gear. Any thoughts of relaxation went out the door, as he noticed a group of rough looking characters walk into the main dining hall. He felt the adrenaline begin to flow, as he realized the new arrivals appeared to be bikers.

Carson was sitting on the outside of the booth across from Ronon. Sheppard sat up and reached over to tap Carson’s arm. When the doctor looked around at him, his expression changed from happy to concern as he saw the look on Sheppard’s face.

“John, what’s wrong?”

“Carson, Chris is over at that table near the stage, Go tell him to call the police and let the manager know there’s about to be trouble. Then get behind the stage, out of the way.”

“Trouble, what kind of trouble, colonel?” Carson whispered as he slipped out of the booth.

Sheppard took a deep breath, “The biker kind.”

He silently cursed; their guns were locked in the car. He was beginning to think that he should have let Ronon bring his blaster. Ronon….he smiled slightly, Ronon was bound to have a few knives on his person.

“Chewie, got a spare knife or two?”

Ronon turned toward him, “What do you think, Sheppard?” He slipped a fairly large knife into Sheppard’s hand. He then slipped another, smaller knife to Rodney.

Rodney stared at the knife, then picked it up, tucking it under his jacket. “You think there’s going to be trouble?”

“Yeah, I thi…,” that was as far as he got before the first scream erupted.

Sheppard counted about twelve bikers; five of them had entered and headed directly for the center of the room. The others were drifting around the perimeter. They were picking up beer mugs and pitchers, and grabbing food from plates. They were also beginning to harass the women at the tables. One very large biker, jerked a teenager from her chair, sat down in it himself, then pulled her into his lap. Sheppard could sense Ronon tense like a coiled spring. He reached out, placing his hand on Ronon’s forearm.

“Not yet, let’s see what they have planned, the longer they go without noticing us, the sooner we’ll have backup from the cops.”

“Sheppard, I’m not going to let them hurt those girls.” Ronon’s voice was full of barely controlled rage.

“Neither am I, just be patient. If they look like they are going to harm anyone, we make ourselves known.”

Glancing over at Rodney, he was pleased to see that his friend didn’t look frightened.

Rodney was tense, but composed. It amazed Sheppard how much he now trusted Rodney to watch his back. He was about to tell Rodney to stay in the background, when the father of the teenager loudly demanded the biker let his daughter go.

Their vantage point didn’t give them a straight visual line to the young girl, but from what he could tell, the biker had decided to nibble on the girl’s neck. When the father interceded, the biker stood up, dropping the girl to the floor, and backhanded the father sending him spinning to the floor. The girl’s mother had grabbed her daughter, attempting to pull her away. Sheppard didn’t have time to react, before Ronon was out of the booth.

“Let her go!” The Satedan rushed toward the table, but two of the large bikers attacked him, slamming Ronon to the floor. Sheppard jumped up and Rodney followed.

“Hey come on, let’s just take it easy here. No need for anyone to get hurt.”

Sheppard slowly approached the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney nudge closer to where the two bikers were pining Ronon to the floor. He was pretty certain that Rodney was planning something. He just didn’t know what.

One of the bikers, a tall, rough looking guy, covered in tattoos, walked over to Sheppard.

“So, pretty boy, you and this…this…funny-haired fag over here, think you’re going to stop us? I don’t think so. We came to Southern California to have some fun, and we are going to have some fun.”

“Why don’t you let these people go, then you can have the place and all the beer for yourself.”

“Really, you think we’re just gonna allow these fine people to leave. Fuck, no; we want to party with them.” He grabbed a server around the neck, “Go get us pitchers of beer, now,” he pulled a large knife from underneath his vest, “or I’ll have to mark you.” He pushed the young man away from him.

Another of the bikers had walked up to them, eyeing Sheppard closely. “Son of a bitch, Rich. This is the asshole that ran me off the road this afternoon. I remember him. He had on shades, but I’d know that sissy hair any day. You nearly caused me to wreck my ride, you son of a bitch.” He took a swing at Sheppard and although Sheppard reacted quickly, the man’s huge fist made contact with his left jaw. He was propelled into a table and slid across the top, plates, glasses and silverware scattering in all directions. He rolled his body as he dropped off the table, managing to get to his knees in time to see Rodney put his plan in action.

Rodney had snuck behind the two men holding onto Ronon. Along the way, he had picked up two of the heavy metal water pictures from the server station nearby. As Sheppard pulled himself to his feet, Rodney struck the two bikers over the head with the pitchers, sending both to the floor, allowing Ronon to escape their grasp.

Sheppard skirted the table, motioning for the people at the surrounding tables to move away. His eyes were fixed on the biker that had struck him. The bastard had his foot on the back of the teenager’s mother, pinning her to the floor.

“Some, big brave guy you are. What a conquest, pinning a 100 pound woman to the floor.” He scoffed, “Why don’t you take on someone your own size, or are you chicken?”

The rough biker was pissed, “You little sissy; I’ll kill you.” He rushed Sheppard, slamming into him and they both fell to the floor. Sheppard was smaller than the biker, who was about Ronon’s size, but he was more agile. The biker’s momentum caused him to roll a bit when he hit the floor, and Sheppard managed to slip from under the heavier man. He jumped up and quickly spun around, kicking the man in the stomach. He hoped to knock the air out of him and keep him down for a few moments.

Ronon had tackled two other bikers, who rushed him when their comrades fell. He took one down with a blow to the face, and had the other’s arm pinned behind him. He whispered to the biker. “How do you like picking on someone your size? He squeezed the man’s throat until he passed out. Ronon dropped him to the floor and turned in time to see Sheppard kick the goateed biker, then get struck from behind with a large serving tray wielded by another biker. He moved to help Sheppard when he heard a cry behind him. He whipped around to see Rodney take a punch to the stomach and double over.

Jumping over a chair, Ronon body slammed the biker who hit Rodney, and they went careening into the stage. Pulling the guy up, Ronon threw a hard punch into the guy’s face. Blood began flowing from the guy’s nose and Ronon loosened his grip on the biker letting him fall to the floor.

Sheppard was stunned momentarily; the tray had struck him in the back of the head causing him to black out for a second. He was lying on the floor when his attacker grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up.

“So, sissy boy, think you can take me on, now.” He twisted Sheppard’s arm behind him.

“Y-yeah, I do.” Sheppard jerked his body down and spun, gaining just enough leverage to swing the biker over his shoulder and to the floor. The biker hit his head on the edge of a table as he went down, knocking him unconscious.

As he straightened up, Sheppard could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background. It wouldn’t be long until help arrived. As he tried to take a deep breath, he felt pain in his right side. He had hit a chair when he fell, bruising his ribs. He paused for a second to get oriented.

All around Sheppard, the patrons had begun to take on the bikers. Near the entrance, three men, two servers and a diner had one of the bikers pinned to the floor; another biker lay unconscious next to them. The mother of the teenage girl, who had been accosted, broke a glass pitcher of beer over the head of one of the bikers, who was punching on her husband. He continued to gaze around the room until he spotted the biker he thought was the leader. The bastard was standing in the center of the dance floor, his arm around one of the female servers, a knife to her throat.

The rest of the room faded from Sheppard’s perception. The biker could hear the sirens as well as he could, and realized that things were quickly going south. The out-of-control bikers had been looking for a fight all day, now they had one. Sheppard took a step toward the man.

“Let her go.”

The biker laughed, “Nah…I like this one. I think I’ll take her with me; she’s hot.” He ran his free hand along her chest. The young woman was staring at Sheppard; fear frozen on her face.

“She’s not going with you; I’m not going let that happen. Let her go.”

Ronon was about to head to Sheppard’s side when he saw Rodney, who had gotten to his feet, was about to be hit from behind again. He yelled for McKay to look out, knowing he probably couldn’t get to the scientist in time. He braced for the blow that the biker was about to deliver when the biker was stopped suddenly by a large metal trash can coming down on his head. The biker fell, unconscious, knocking Rodney over. Ronon grinned, as an angry Carson Beckett, holding the trash can, looked over at him. Carson dropped the can and helped Rodney to his feet.

Ronon turned toward Sheppard, but he didn’t get very far before he felt the sharp edge of a blade slide across his upper right arm. Warm blood began to trickle down his arm from a deep slice along his bicep. He slipped a large knife from its sheath on his belt, and wheeled around, the knife sinking into the biker’s side. He tried to keep from hitting anything vital, knowing Sheppard would prefer they didn’t kill anyone. The biker stumbled backward. A couple of the band members jumped down from the stage, holding the biker down. Ronon concentrated on Sheppard, as Carson began to administer aid to the stabbed biker.

Sheppard took a step toward the biker and his hostage. “Come on, you don’t want to hurt her, you want to hurt me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, asshole. I want to do both.”

The sirens were so close that Sheppard was certain the police would burst through the doors any minute. He could tell the biker knew that as well, the resolve in the man’s eyes was clear. He was going to go down fighting. Sheppard wasn’t going to let him take the girl with him.

Noticing Ronon slowly entering his vision periphery, he formulated a plan; hoping that Ronon would catch on. He started slowly edging toward the biker.

“Come on, let’s finish this. Let her go. I’ll fight you. You’re bigger than me; guess you must outweigh me by fifty pounds. You can take me. Well, you can try. Let her go.”

It was working. Sheppard saw the biker’s grip on the girl loosen. The knife was no longer pressed against the girl’s throat. If he, and Ronon, timed it right, they could end this. Sheppard’s hand drifted toward the knife tucked in his belt, all the while keeping the biker’s eyes locked on his. When he thought that Ronon was close enough, he smiled at the biker.

“I gave you a chance; you didn’t take it. Sorry….”

With that, he whipped the knife up and lunged at the biker. The biker instinctively raised his knife in Sheppard’s direction, releasing the young woman. Ronon quickly snatched her away to safety. Sheppard continued to rush forward, intending to knock the biker to the floor. He was focused and had suppressed the din of noise around him. He could hear the welcoming sound of the police bursting into the room. It was over, just take this bastard down, and it was over.

However, the biker had other ideas. He lunged at Sheppard; holding his knife in front of him. Sheppard attempted to block the knife with his left arm, but the biker’s weight hit him, and they went down. He felt the knife that he was holding sink into the biker’s abdomen before he lost his grip on the handle. He was pinned to the floor until Ronon pulled the biker off of him, and pulled him to his feet.

“Sheppard, you OK?”

Ronon’s voice sounded far away. He tried to focus on the Satedan, but was having difficulty doing so. He had a sensation of warm fluid trickling down his side and he gingerly touched the area. Pulling his hand back, it was covered with blood. He raised his head toward Ronon, as the room began to fade to black, and he started to sink to the floor again. He uttered one word, “Crap.”

~~ooOoo~~

The familiar soft cadence of the monitors surrounding him was the first sound he recognized. Slowly opening his eyes, he expected to see the deep aqua-green walls of the Atlantis infirmary; instead, he was looking at a white ceiling and deep tan colored walls. The lights were subdued, a fact that he was grateful for since his head was throbbing. He raised his head a bit and saw two figures sitting in chairs at the foot of the bed.

“H-hey…”

Beckett was on his feet in flash, barely beating Rodney to Sheppard’s bedside. “How’re you feeling, laddie”

“Normal…”

McKay scoffed, “Normal…I wouldn’t call a stab wound, bruised ribs, and a minor concussion normal.”

“S-seems normal to me, McKay,” he motioned that he wanted to sit up. Beckett adjusted the bed, raising the head up a bit.

“Could I have some w-water? How b-bad’s the s-stab wound?”

Carson gave him a sip of water, “Not too much at once, colonel; you can have more. As for the stab wound, it’s not as bad as it looked. It bled a lot, but it’s not very deep. It’s more like a slice across your left side. A child doctor finished sewing you up a few minutes ago, took seventeen stitches.” He gave Sheppard another sip of water.

“Child doctor, you mean a kid’s doctor? Where are we, Sesame Street?”

Chuckling Carson said, “No, your doctor is a full-fledged emergency room doctor, he’s just young.”

“Well, C-Carson, they begin to look that way when we get older.”

“Hush, you cheeky bastard; you need to rest. We were concerned about the head injury; you hit your head a second time when you fainted.”

“Passed out, doc; not fainted,” McKay chuckled, and Sheppard grinned slightly at his friend.

“Head’s too hard to hurt very badly, Carson,” but if Sheppard had to admit it, his head was throbbing.

“Well, you were lucky that it’s only a minor concussion.”

Sheppard’s mind cleared enough to realize that Ronon wasn’t in the room. “Where’s Ronon?”

Carson glanced at the monitor, noticing that Sheppard’s heart rate had picked up as he asked about Ronon. ‘Calm down, John. Ronon’s fine, he’s getting stitches in his arm. He got cut, as well, but he’ll be fine. I don’t think he’ll need as many stitches as you did. Now just rest, I’m gonna go let the nurse know you’re awake. The doctor will be back in a bit to check you over, and then we can leave, once they’ve finished with Ronon.”

Carson was about to open the door, when a man in a suit entered. “Gentlemen, I’m Detective Elliot of the Bakersfield Police.” He shook Carson and Rodney’s hands, glancing over at Sheppard. “Colonel, good to see you are awake. We’ve gotten statements from your friends, but I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Sure, come in.” Sheppard waved his hand.

I won’t keep you long; Dr. McKay said you would be staying at least another day for you to recuperate a bit before you head on to Vegas. We can talk more tomorrow. Mostly, I just wanted to pass on a message from Sergeant Harper of the CHP. He got word about what went down at the Roadhouse, and that you were involved. He said you helped stop some of these guys this afternoon, and he wanted me to pass on his thanks. These guys have been wreaking havoc all over. We think they’ve been in the area for nearly two weeks, but working in pairs, robbing convenient stores and houses. We think they are responsible for two deaths and about seven rapes. Bunch of bad dudes, giving bikers a bad name; hell, I’m afraid to take my bike out for a while until this all settles down.”

“Not the friendliest group I’ve been around, detective.”

The young doctor walked in, followed by Ronon, whose bicep was wrapped in sticky purple gauze. McKay giggled, “Purple becomes you, Conan.”

Ronon glared at the scientist, but asked Sheppard, “You OK, buddy?” Sheppard nodded.

The detective took his leave, after making arrangement to talk with them at 10 am at the hotel. The doctor discharged both Sheppard and Ronon into Beckett’s care.

“I need a shirt.” Sheppard said, after he pulled on his boots, with Carson’s assistance.

“Here,” he handed Sheppard one of Appell Lane Vineyards t-shirts that the colonel had purchased in the vineyard gift shop. “I drove the car here from the Roadhouse, and noticed the bag with the shirts, figured you’d need this.” Sheppard muttered thanks and, with a grimace, pulled the dark green shirt over his head. The bruised ribs and stitches were tender and sore.

“Come on, John,” Carson said gently. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, so you can get some rest.”

~~ooOoo~~

About thirty hours later, they were ready to leave Bakersfield. They met with the police to give their full statements the day before and had turned down a request by the local media for interviews. Carson had insisted that they all rest during the afternoon; sending Rodney out to pick up burgers for dinner, which they ate in Sheppard’s room. They spent the rest of the evening watching a marathon of the television show, Dirty Jobs. Ronon was fascinated by all the different jobs the host attempted.

Thursday morning was bright and sunny as they checked out of the hotel. Rodney had insisted on taking care of the hotel bill, and was settling up. The other three walked to the newly delivered and undamaged Range Rover. The rental car agency had picked up the damaged vehicle, replacing it with an identical Rover.

Sheppard automatically opened the driver’s door to get in when a sharp ‘no’ from Carson stopped him.

“You are not driving. Rodney’s driving.”

“Rodney? Hell, it’ll be next week before we get to Vegas. He drives like my uncle Francis, slow and steady. I’ll drive.”

“No, and don’t make me sic Ronon on you, laddie. Now, get in the back seat with me. Ronon’s riding up front. You’re still recuperating and I want to keep an eye on you.” Sheppard frowned, and reluctantly got in the backseat.

Rodney emerged from the hotel, taking the driver’s seat. “OK, we’re out of Bakersfield, and I am so glad to be leaving here.’

“You forget something, Rodney; seatbelts, maybe?”

“Bite me, Sheppard; who put you in charge?”

“Rodney,” Sheppard was exasperated; mostly, because he didn’t like not driving.

“OK, everyone, ‘Colonel I Have to Run Everything’ wants us to all buckle-up.”

“It’s the law, Rodney,” Ronon remarked quietly.

“You can bite me, too, Conan.” Rodney snarked, while Sheppard and Beckett laughed.

Once he was on the main road toward Vegas, Rodney remarked, “You guys realized that we left Atlantis about 48 hours ago and so far we’ve been hung over…”

Sheppard interrupted, “You’ve been hung over.”

Rodney glared over his shoulder at Sheppard, and continued, “Hung over, nearly wrecked, attacked by madmen on motorcycles, then beaten and stabbed by those same madmen.”

“Your point is, McKay,” Sheppard drawled, “all sounds normal to me.”

Rodney sighed deeply, “Yeah. I know, and it’s only day three of a thirty day vacation. We’ll be lucky if we survive.”

Sheppard grinned, “You worry too much. On to Vegas, what could possibly go wrong?”

Rodney groaned.

 _End of Segment Two. Now on to Vegas!!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of a delay, the guys are finally headed for Vegas...Sin City...what could they possibly get into there?


	3. Vegas....Baby:    Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a stop along the way, the guys make it to Vegas. What's in store for them there?

**Trip Segment Three Vegas, Baby…**

 _Day One:_

Declaring that he might as well take a nap, since it was going to take Rodney forever to get to Las Vegas, John Sheppard closed his eyes, promptly falling asleep. They had only been on the road out of Bakersfield for fifteen minutes.

"He's asleep, already?"

Carson scolded the scientist, "Not so loud, Rodney. You'll wake him up; he needs to rest."

"He's faking it, so he won't have to talk to us. He can't be that exhausted; he slept almost the entire day, yesterday."

"John suffered serious trauma and injuries like that take a toll on the body. He needs to rest; sleep is the best thing for him, so you need to be quiet."

"I got punched in the stomach…but I don't get to rest."

Ronon was sitting in the front passenger's seat of the Range Rover. He scoffed, "Too much padding there for you to get hurt."

A high-pitched chortle from Carson caused Rodney to turn and glare at Carson, who was sitting behind Ronon. He was not the least bit happy seeing the doctor's impish grin. Turning back to Ronon, who was also grinning, he whined, "Har de har, har…you both think you are so funny. Well, I have a bruise, a bad bruise."

"You have a bruise. Sheppard has seventeen stitches. I have nine. Plus, Sheppard has bruised ribs and a concussion; I think he's got you beat, McKay." Ronon said, as Carson chuckled once again.

Sheppard stirred, his head slipping over to lean against the brace between the windows, as he slouched down in the seat. Carson glanced at the colonel, concerned the chatter had woken him. He was pleased that apparently, Sheppard could tune out Rodney's whining.

"Rodney, just drive and please attempt to be quieter. You should turn on a little soft music like John did for us when we were under the weather."

Grumbling, Rodney fiddled with the sat radio and found a station playing soft Brazilian jazz, "That OK, Doctor Beckett?"

"Perfect, now attempt to be quiet."

They traveled in near silence for a bit over an hour. Beckett dosed for part of that time, while Rodney concentrated on driving. Only a random comment about the starkness of the scenery, or Ronon questioning what kind product an eighteen-wheeler was carrying broke the respite. Ronon immersed himself in reading some of the tourist brochures that Carson had picked up at the hotel as they were leaving.

They were approaching a road sign. Ronon said, "Hey; that says Edwards A-F-B…that's an Air Force ba…" He stopped, interrupted by a huge roaring sound that passed over them. Rodney had cracked open the sunroof earlier, and the sound felt like it came from inside the Rover.

The sleeping Sheppard woke with a start, immediately alert, "Hey, what the hell?"

Rodney replied, "Should've known you'd react to a plane. We're close to Edwards, think that was one of your flyboy buddies going over."

Sheppard was peering out the window, "Yeah, sounded like an F-35 Lighting…well, actually, its one of the test planes for the Joint Strike fighters program."

Rodney asked cynically, "You can tell those planes apart without seeing them?"

"Yes, Rodney, I can. Remember, I was here about three weeks ago; met Cam Mitchell for a few days of flight training. Air Force decided I had time for a recert on aircraft I hadn't flown in a long time. I got to watch the AF-03 in action while I was here…cool bird."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard caught movement, announcing, "Here she comes again." Within seconds, a sleek fighter jet zoomed across their path. They followed the plane until it was out of sight.

"Cool," Sheppard was smiling broadly, as he watched the plane's trajectory.

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Once a flyboy, always a flyboy."

Sheppard didn't reply, reaching behind him for the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of water, "Anyone want something to drink?"

Carson and Rodney said yes, Ronon held up his two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, "I'm good."

Sheppard chuckled, "You're gonna turn into a bottle of that stuff, Ronon."

Shifting around in his seat, Sheppard winced visibly. Carson, who was watching him closely, took the water bottles out of his hands. "Here, I'll take those. You need to be more careful, laddie; that's a nasty injury you have."

"I'm OK, just a bit tender."

"Aye, a bit tender...nice lie," Carson replied. Wisely, he didn't pursue it.

Looking at his watch, Sheppard glanced at Carson, winking. "Hey, Rodney; we've been on the road for an hour and a half, and you're just now getting to Edwards. What are you driving, forty miles an hour?"

"Bite me, Sheppard! You're the one who keeps saying that we have all the time in the world to get to Vegas. Why are you suddenly in such an all-fired hurry?"

"I'm not; I'm just saying you drive like a snowbird in Florida."

Rodney grumbled something unintelligible in response, prompting Carson to laugh. Ronon looked confused. Sheppard explained, "A snowbird is someone who is retired and spends the winters in warm places. They drive at about thirty miles an hour and hold up traffic."

Ronon nodded, "Hey, we're really not in a hurry to get to Vegas?"

"Nope, not in a hurry, we've got all day. Considering Rodney's driving, it'll take all day."

"Can we go here?" He handed Sheppard a brochure.

Sheppard scanned the pamphlet; "Calico Ghost Town…," then looked at Ronon. "You want to stop here?"

"Yeah…my grandfather, my mother's father, was a miner. He mined for an ore called stega. It's a silver colored metal; might be the same stuff. I…I'd like to see this."

"OK, by me; fortunately, we haven't passed it yet. Rodney, when we get close to Yermo, look out for signs about the Calico Ghost Town, that's our next stop."

"A ghost town, really?" The cynical tone in Rodney's voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, Rodney, it will be fun." Sheppard's tone was very even.

Rodney was about to say something else when he looked into the rear view mirror. Catching Sheppard's expression, he got the message, shut up.

"Yeah, sounds like lots of fun." McKay said flatly.

"Can I see that, John?" Carson asked, taking the brochure. He began to read part of it, '…the historic silver mining town lives on as one of the few original Old West mining camps. One-third of Calico's original structures still stand; the remaining buildings have been carefully reconstructed to capture the Old West spirit.' This sound interesting, Ronon."

"Yeah, Sergeant Harper told me stories about the old west on Earth, the cowboys and Indians, the mines, the cattle herds. It's pretty cool."

"Cool? You think that's cool?"

Rodney's snarky comment elicited a sharp kick to the back of his seat by Sheppard. The colonel drawled, "Yeah, Rodney, cool, it's gonna be cool. Now keep your eyes open, according to the map, we should be there in about an hour and a half…, or three, the way you drive."

Carson's high-pitched chortle appeared to annoy Rodney. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he noted the defiant smirk on Sheppard's face. Rodney wisely chose to refrain from further comments. They traveled in silence for the next several miles.

Beckett had been staring out the window at the landscape they were passing, "This is a desolate country, colonel."

"Desolate is an excellent word to describe this place. All that exist out here are scrub brush, dirt, and rocky hills. It might appear lifeless, but the entire Mojave Desert is teeming with life. All sorts of wildlife and plants survive in the Mojave; the Joshua tree, numerous other varieties of yucca, along with cactus, wildflowers, coyotes, gophers, insects, hawks. The desert is teeming with action."

"How do you know so much about this area, John?"

"When I was at the Academy, we underwent flight training at Edwards. We conducted, or suffered, desert survival training here, as well; not the most fun I've ever had. It came in handy later though…." Sheppard's voice trailed off, his gaze drifted through the window at the stark scenery.

Beckett asked, "Iraq or Afghanistan?"

Sheppard responded slowly, "Both." Shifting slightly in the seat, he gingerly extended his long legs as far as he could within the confined space. A slight catch in his breath indicated pain as he moved.

Carson reached into the luggage compartment behind the passenger area, grabbing his medkit. As he opened the bag, he sensed Sheppard staring at him. He stared back, asking, "What?"

"If you got that out for me, put it back."

"You're due for a pain pill."

"Not taking it."

"John, you're in pain, don't try to tell me you aren't."

"Don't want it." Sheppard turned away.

"I don't care if you don't want to take a pain pill; you need it, and I insist."

"No, whatever you are giving me makes me drowsy. I don't want to sleep my entire vacation away."

Beckett sighed, while noticing that McKay and Ronon were decidedly quiet. "John, I can give you a reduced dose.'

"Give me a couple of Advil, that'll be fine." The expression on his face ended the matter. Beckett gave him a two Advil and put his medkit away.

After he took the pills, Sheppard changed the subject, "Ronon, tell us about your grandfather."

Ronon turned toward Sheppard, "He…his name was Quinon, was a good man. His family had always worked in the stega mines around Torva, a town about hundred miles from the capital. My grandmother taught school there and my mother and my uncle grew up there. My uncle continued to work in the mines as an adult, but my mother went to the university in Sateda City. She met my father there, and stayed."

Beckett asked, "What did your mother study at university?"

Ronon smiled slightly as he responded, "She was a teacher as well, an art teacher."

McKay asked quietly, "Is this the grandfather who contracted the...uh, 'Second Childhood' disease?"

"No; that was my father's father who suffered from 'the second childhood'."

Silence descended within the Rover. Each of them appeared to be lost in the memory of Rodney dealing with the parasite that caused the 'second childhood". Sheppard broke the silence, "What did your grandfather do in the stega mines?"

"He started out digging out the ore, then he was promoted to supervisor of a crew, then a shift period. He'd been promoted to mine safety supervisor when he died."

Beckett asked softly, "How did he die, Ronon."

"There was a fire in the mine; he rushed to help the trapped miners and was overcome by the smoke. Over a hundred men died in the mine that day."

"Tough business, mining; no matter how much safety equipment and caution is put into mining operations, it's still dangerous. Sorry, you lost him that way, Ronon." Sheppard said.

"Aye, but he died a hero, Ronon; trying to save his people." Beckett said.

"Yeah, he did." Ronon replied softly.

As they continued toward Vegas, Ronon told stories of his visits to the mine with his grandfather, while Beckett regaled them with stories about his relatives who worked in the Scottish coalmines. As they reminisced, Beckett noticed Sheppard had drifted off to sleep once more.

It wasn't long before Rodney announced that they were approaching Barstow. "OK, who's got directions to the 'ghost' town? We're about to get onto I-15."

Beckett perused the brochure, "The brochure says that we should take the Yermo exit on I-15 which leads to the ghost town."

Fifteen minutes later, they had turned onto a dusty two-lane road, heading for a range of low mountains. A short drive took them to a small gatehouse, where Rodney paid their admission, then proceeded to the parking lot.

Rodney turned to Beckett, "Well; we're here. Should someone wake Sheppard?"

Beckett nodded, and gently rocked Sheppard's shoulder. Sheppard jumped, "Wha…oh crap, I fell asleep again." He sat up slowly, grimacing, "Gotta stop doing that." He looked out the window, "We're at the ghost town."

"Aye, we are, laddie; are you up to taking a walk?" Beckett was watching him with concern.

"I'm fine; looking forward to it. Besides, I'm getting hungry; let's go."

They exited the car, heading for the town entrance. As Rodney and Carson walked in front of them, Sheppard caught Ronon's arm. "Hey, buddy; I don't want you to expect too much from this place. We have a tendency to make tourist spots out of places that should be, well…not so crappy. There are still original buildings here, but it's more like a tourist trap. You can take a train ride for a little sightseeing, and you can tour the mine."

Sheppard reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He took a couple of twenty-dollar bills out, "Here, take this so you can pay for whatever you decide to do."

Ronon reluctantly took the money, and smiled, "Thanks. It's OK; I thought it was going to be like other places we have been here…, but I still wanted to come. Thanks for making Rodney stop."

Sheppard smiled as he noticed that the other guys had stopped, waiting for them. "Come on, I wasn't kidding about being hungry. Besides, I think they serve beer here."

They climbed the hill to the main street, where they spent about a half-hour walking around to get an overview of the ghost town. The town was busy; a couple of tour buses sat in the lot and one brought a busload of kids. The four men wandered past the schoolhouse, the firehouse, and several shops. Ronon was particularly interested in a building that was made entirely of the bases of glass bottles.

Returning to the 'main' part of town, Ronon and Carson stopped along the street, waiting for the daily 'shoot-out' to begin. Sheppard spotted Rodney leaning against a pillar on the restaurant porch, a decidedly morose look on his face.

Sheppard mounted the weathered wooden steps, and leaned against the opposite side of the pillar. "Ronon and Carson appear to be having a good time." He waited for Rodney's response.

"Yeah…" Rodney didn't say anything else.

"So, I take it that you aren't?"

Frowning Rodney sputtered, "Oh, it's just peachy. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my day. Hanging around a dusty, hot, monochrome, gaudy tourist trap with a bunch of kids running wild is so my concept of a good time."

"Rodney, those kids are very well behaved. However, hot and dusty, I will give you. I could use something cold to drink about now. When the shoot-out is over, I say we go get something to eat." Rodney only nodded.

Sheppard and Rodney found seats on a bench next to the building. They waited for the street play to conclude. When the show ended, Ronon searched the crowd and spotting them, he and Carson headed their way.

"Did ya see that, laddie? That shoot-out skit was funny. This was a good idea; I'm having fun."

Sheppard grinned, "Well, come on Wyatt Earp; let’s go get some food. I'm starved."

Ronon asked, "Who is Wyatt Earp?"

"I'll tell you at lunch." He rose, visibly grimacing as he did.

Carson's demeanor changed, "Oh, laddie, you're in need of some pain meds."

"Advil, doc; I told you, Advil only."

Carson reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a bottle. "Here."

"I'll take it later."

"Now, colonel," handing him the water bottle he was carrying. Sheppard frowned but accepted the water, and swallowed the pill.

Inside the Calico restaurant, a comely young woman dressed in period costume, flowing calico skirt, white shirred off- the-shoulder blouse, and corset greeted them. She seated them at a table on the porch and handed them menus. Beckett was grinning broadly.

"I like this place."

Sheppard chuckled, "You just like the corset," laughing as Beckett turned a tad pink.

After ordering sandwiches, drinks, and a couple of baskets of buffalo wings, Sheppard explained the legend of Wyatt Earp to Ronon. The Satedan was fascinated by Sheppard's description of Earp's infamous gun. The server returned with their drinks and wings, and Ronon quickly consumed one basket by himself. He had discovered a fondness for buffalo wings.

Sheppard had a large mug of beer in front of him, ignoring the frown Beckett sent his way. The Advil had kicked in somewhat, and he was feeling better. He wasn't about to admit to the good doctor how badly his side had been hurting, mostly from the bruised ribs. His ribs felt more broken than bruised.

When the food arrived, they were pleasantly surprised at the generous portions; they dug in, not talking for a few minutes. Carson finally broke the silence, "Ronon, how's the buffalo burger?" His mouth full, Ronon only bobbed his head up and down. He turned to Sheppard, "Colonel, that BBQ good?"

"Very good, fries are good, too. Your's?" Carson had ordered the same BBQ sandwich and fries that Sheppard had.

"Very good, John; I'm glad I took your suggestion. Rodney?"

Rodney had a cheeseburger, "It's OK," he replied flatly.

Sheppard glowered at him, "McKay, lighten up; what the hell's wrong with you?"

"He misses her." Beckett chirped.

"Misses who, Jennifer?" He looked over at Rodney, "Is that what is going on with you?"

A snarky glare targeted Beckett, then turned on Sheppard, "No, I don't miss Jennifer."

Sheppard waited, cocking his head, impatient for an explanation from Rodney, which didn't come. Beckett finally answered for him, whispering, "He misses Atlantis." Rodney's glare intensified.

Rubbing his eyes, Sheppard paused for a moment before he spoke, "Rodney, 'she' is fine, but if you want to call Radek and check on things you can do so. No one's stopping you; just be discreet."

Rodney immediately pulled the phone that the SGC had issued him from his shirt pocket. As he was searching for Radek's number, Sheppard reached over, taking the phone from him. "Could you please, at least, wait until we get back to the Rover?"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

"I'd rather bite into some of that homemade pie and another beer." Beckett frowned at Sheppard's mention of another beer. However, he remained silent.

Following pie and ice cream, Ronon and Beckett decided to take the short train ride and the silver mine tour. Sheppard had declined to join them, and remained at the table watching the crowds. Rodney stayed with him for a while before he wandered off. Close to an hour later, they all returned carrying gift shop bags.

"You guys, ready?" Sheppard started to rise as Beckett picked up an empty beer bottle that was sitting in front of Sheppard. As Beckett started to open his mouth, Sheppard put up his hand. "Don't start, I'm not taking pain pills and I'm not driving; besides, I only had three beers."

Ronon handed him a bag, preventing Beckett from replying. Sheppard asked, "What's this?" He peered inside, finding a hand-tooled leather cuff. It was dark brown, trimmed with thin braid of leather around the edges. "This is cool…thanks."

Ronon looked a bit sheepish, but replied, "I know you like those things. I just wanted to say thanks for stopping here. I think my grandfather would have liked it. I liked it."

Embarrassed, Sheppard asked what else the guys bought. Ronon showed him a braided leather belt and a leather tooling kit he had gotten. Carson showed them a brown leather belt with a big silver buckle he had bought, in addition to a western-styled shirt. Carson also bought a large container filled with several varieties of 'homemade' fudge.

As they left the restaurant, Sheppard realized that Rodney was concealing a bag behind him. "What did you buy, Rodney?"

Reluctantly, Rodney pulled a stuffed toy bear from the bag. Beckett scoffed, looking at Sheppard, "I told you he was lonely." Sheppard and Ronon both laughed.

"Bite me; I bought this for Madison." He turned and walked off, heading toward the parking lot. The others, still laughing, followed.

As they approached the Rover, Rodney was pulling out his phone to contact Atlantis. He was already talking by the time he clicked the remote, unlocking the car doors.

No one spoke as Rodney pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the interstate. The others listened to Rodney's side of the conversation with Radek, which consisted of pauses in between excited diatribe. What, what did they do that for? Didn't I tell you not to let that moron touch the database? I worked with him at Area 51; he's an idiot. Did you get it fixed? What the fuck did they want to do that for, damn it? I don't want those bastards anywhere near the stuff we are working on. You tell Lorne to post Marines around the science department and keep them away.

At the mention of Major Lorne's name, Sheppard plucked the phone from Rodney's hand. Ignoring the astrophysicist's whining, Sheppard spoke, "Radek, what's happening?" He listened intently, while slapping Rodney's hand away. "OK, get Lorne for me." The agitated scientist reached out for the phone and Sheppard slapped his hand away again. "Rodney, stop it," he was clearly annoyed.

"Lorne, tell me what's going on there." Sheppard listened for a couple of minutes. "So, exactly what we thought. OK, just stick to the plan and let me know if anything happens." He paused, listening to Lorne. He replied, "Having a great time; no problems, so far." He ignored Beckett's scoff at his comment. After Lorne's reply, Sheppard said, "Good. Don't worry if you don't hear from us for a few days. Tell Radek that I’m hiding Rodney's phone. Talk to you when we leave Vegas." Sheppard hung up, putting the phone in the pocket of his shirt.

"Sheppard, give me that back; I need to talk to Radek."

"No, you don't; everything is fine, Atlantis is in good shape. Woolsey, Radek, and Lorne are taking care of her; now relax."

"What did you mean by exactly what we thought and stick to the plan?" Rodney asked pointedly.

"Nothing, we all knew that the Area 51 guys were itching to get their hands on Atlantis. I'd already told Lorne to keep security tight, so that there was limited aggravation for everyone. Things are fine. Now, concentrate on driving; you just missed the entrance ramp to I-15."

Rodney glanced to his left as he passed the ramp. "Damn it; well, we need to fill up the tank anyway." He pulled into a convenience store, and hopped out of the car to pump gas.

"John, is everything really OK on Atlantis?" Beckett asked while Rodney was out of earshot.

"Yeah, the 51 guys are acting a bit pissy, but Radek said Dr. Lee actually chewed a couple of them out royally. Lorne said the scientists were bickering, but that's normal." Sheppard shifted in his seat, trying to adjust his seatbelt. The belt was putting pressure on his ribs and he couldn't suppress a moan.

"Those ribs are giving you fits aren't they, laddie?"

Sheppard sighed deeply, "You'd know I was lying if I said they were fine. Yeah, they feel more broken than bruised."

"Ronon, I think the colonel needs to be in the front seat, it reclines. These back ones don't."

"Yeah, they do. This is a new model Rover; the rear seats recline," Sheppard grunted.

"Good, then let's get this seat back. We need to take the pressure off your ribs."

"Wait, you'll have to move some of the stuff behind my seat."

Carson looked at Ronon for assistance. The Satedan jumped out of the Rover, heading for the rear hatch. While he was shifting the luggage and Beckett's fishing gear, Carson checked the bandage on Sheppard's stab wound.

"You are bruised very badly, and have quite a bit of swelling, laddie. Let me give you something for the pain."

"No, just Advil."

"You can't keep taking Advil; it's not strong enough. I'll give you two more. However, if you continue to be in this kind of pain, I am giving you something stronger." He looked up as Ronon indicated the seat was clear. "OK, let's get this seat back."

Once the seat was reclined, Sheppard was still having issues with the seatbelt. Carson reached into the gift shop bag, and pulled out the western shirt he had bought and folded it into a small pad. He slipped it under the belt taking the pressure off Sheppard's ribs, "Better?"

"Yeah."

Rodney got behind the wheel, looking back at Beckett. Concern evident on his face, he asked, "Is he OK?"

"Aye, he's gonna be fine; just hurting. He had a nasty injury."

"I'm right here, guys; you don't need to talk about me." Sheppard mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you should take care of yourself." Rodney retorted.

Sheppard grunted, closing his eyes. Rodney started the Rover; by the time he pulled onto the interstate, Sheppard was asleep. They were on the way to Vegas.

~~ooOoo~~

"You're going to have to wake him up. I have no idea what hotel he's booked for us. I could drive around until he wakes up on his own, but the way he's been sleeping, we could be driving around for a week."

"Rodney, you're gonna wake the dead if you don't lower your voice."

"Too, late." Sheppard mumbled.

"John, how are you feeling?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard opened one eye, "OK." He punched the button to move the seat into the upright position. Looking out the window, he shook his head, "Rodney, we're still ten miles from Vegas."

"I don't know what exit to take, 'cause I don't know where we're going."

"We are going to Caesar's Palace, turn the GPS on…"

Rodney switched on the GPS and within ten minutes, the monotone female voice on the GPS was telling him to take exit 38, turning onto East Flamingo.

"Rodney, Caesar's is on the left, turn at the light." Sheppard's directions were mimicked by the GPS seconds later.

Ronon, whose head had been bobbing from one window to another, uttered, "Are these palaces?"

Sheppard chuckled, "No, these are hotels, but they could be called palaces of greed, gambling, and sin. Wait until you see this place at night. The neon lights are spectacular."

Rodney made the u-turn into the hotel driveway and pulled under the large canopy in front of the lobby doors. Before he got out of the car, he turned to look at Sheppard, "See, I got us here and it didn't take a week."

"You still drive too slow." Sheppard mumbled and Rodney turned away, opening his door. He didn't see the smiles exchanged by Sheppard and Beckett.

Ronon quickly exited the car and started to get the luggage. Rodney had opened Sheppard's door, offering to help him. Sheppard frowned and waved him off, getting out of the Rover, slowly, but on his own. He headed to the rear of the Rover, where Ronon was reaching for the luggage. "Hey, those guys over there will get the bags; you don't need to deal with them." Ronon nodded, and Sheppard waved the bellmen over.

A few minutes later, everything except Beckett's fishing gear had been unloaded, and Rodney had turned the keys over to the valet attendant. They were about to go inside the hotel when they realized that Sheppard had disappeared.

"Where did he go, is he inside already?" Rodney asked.

They searched all directions for the errant colonel; Ronon spotted him first, "He's over there." Sheppard had walked across the driveway and was standing in the plaza where the three magnificent fountains were located. They joined him.

Beckett stood next to Sheppard, "Laddie…I think you need to go inside. I'd like for you to rest for a while."

"That's all I've been doing, Carson. I need to move around. Magnificent, aren't they?"

"The fountains are spectacular."

"They're fountains." Rodney said, matter-of-factly.

"Not just any fountains. Remember me telling you about my childhood hero, Evil Knievel?" Sheppard looked at Rodney, who nodded. "These are the fountains that he attempted to jump in 1967. Didn't make it, ended up in a coma for nineteen days, but it was quite a show."

"Is that why we're staying here, because of your childhood hero?

"Yep, no place else I would ever stay in Vegas."

Ronon was grinning, as he surveyed the fountains, "That I would have liked to have seen."

Sheppard chewed his lower lip, "That can be arranged. Let's get checked in and I'll show you a clip of his jump, there's a bunch on Youtube."

As Sheppard and Ronon headed for the lobby, Rodney fell in step next to Beckett, "Well, that explains it; Sheppard thinks he's fucking Evil Knievel. No wonder he's always getting hurt."

"Aye, well, don't you imagine yourself as Batman, Rodney?" Beckett was grinning impishly.

McKay glowered at Beckett. "Batman was a hero; Knievel was a daredevil." As they passed through the doors into the opulent lobby, he added, "Besides, Daffy Duck is more suited to Sheppard. His hair looks like Daffy's tail."

~~ooOoo~~

The four friends parted company, each going to their own rooms to shower and change after the dusty, hot day. Ronon joined Sheppard in his room approximately an hour later. He was anxious to watch the video of Evil Knievel that Sheppard had promised to show him. They were watching the jump for the fifth time when Rodney arrived, Carson on his heels.

As they entered, Ronon grinned at them like a schoolboy, gesturing to the laptop screen. "Have you seen this? This guy was awesome."

Beckett strolled to the window of the living room in Sheppard's suite. It was nearing sunset, and twilight was beginning to descend over Las Vegas. The glittering lights that would be blazing in the dark were just beginning to emerge.

"Living in Scotland, I always wanted to come to Vegas. Seeing the pictures of the pretty girls and the bright lights, it was intoxicating. The lads and I would chat over a pint about how much money we'd win, and how the girls would be hanging all over us. I never made here until today."

Sheppard was sprawled on the couch; his long legs stretched across the cushions. "Night's still young, Carson; you could win all that money tonight." He cocked his eyebrow as a grin spread across his face.

"Aye, laddie that I could, provided, I had any luck, but we know lady luck doesn't like me."

Rodney had picked up the hotel directory and was looking through the restaurants on-site, "Who's hungry? I'm famished; I only had that cheeseburger at lunch."

Ronon snorted, "Yeah, after you ate nearly the entire breakfast buffet this morning."

"Well, Conan, I had to make sure that you didn't eat it all."

"Yeah, well, you had at least three muffins along with half of the eggs and bacon. Then you ate half of Carson's candy before we got here."

"I did not; I only had two pieces." Rodney put down the directory and folded his arms across his chest.

Sheppard sat up slowly, "Quit pouting, Rodney. Let's go downstairs, find a restaurant, and have dinner." He grimaced slightly as he pushed off the couch, using his left arm. Carson was watching his every move.

"You know lads; we've had a busy day, maybe we should get room service and have dinner here."

Sheppard's glower quickly told Carson that his suggestion was a moot one. Grabbing a jacket lying on the dining table, Sheppard headed for the door. "Come on, guys, it's our first night in Vegas; let's have some fun."

They wandered through the opulent lobby, adorned with marble statues and employees dressed in Ancient Roman costume. They walked through the casino toward several of the restaurants. As they passed a large area of slot machines, Sheppard spotted a restaurant, the Hyakumi.

"Let's eat here, it's a sushi bar and tappen restaurant; I doubt that Ronon has ever had this experience."

A lovely oriental woman seated them at a tappen table for four, which was located next to a large artificial tree. Sheppard explained to Ronon that their food was going to be prepared on the grill embedded in the table. To start, he ordered an assortment of sushi rolls, and sake for everyone. However, when the sake arrived, he refused any. He smiled at the server, telling her he was driving.

Beckett, who was sitting next to Sheppard, had watched as the colonel gingerly eased into the padded chair when they arrived. He leaned over and quietly asked him, "OK; I know you're in pain. Holding out on the sake because you know you need stronger pain medicine?"

Sheppard's green eyes betrayed him as he glanced at Beckett. The pain he felt was unmistakable in his eyes, "Enjoy your dinner, Carson."

"You canna lie to me, I can see you're in pain."

"Just get through the meal, then we'll talk." Sheppard turned away, ending the conversation. As the chef appeared, pushing a cart laden with the food he was going to prepare, Beckett let the matter drop.

The next hour they laughed at the antics of the chef as he prepared their steak, chicken, and shrimp. Ronon discovered the joys of chopsticks, quickly becoming adept at using them. Grinning, Sheppard reminded him that the use of chopsticks was a vast improvement over his table manners when they first met. After a few more sakes and bowls of ice cream, they were stuffed and ready to leave.

Sheppard turned as he rose from his chair, but swayed, appearing dizzy, and lurched forward. He reached for the back of his chair, but Carson grabbed him. As he helped steady Sheppard to remain on his feet, he heard Rodney's voice, low and concerned.

"Carson, look at his side."

Sheppard's jacket had opened, revealing his side; there was blood on his shirt. "Oh, John, you've ripped your stitches. How the hell did that happen?"

Sheppard sighed, "I got dizzy in the shower, and fell. I thought the bleeding had stopped."

Looking at Ronon, Carson said, "Let's get him to his room."

As Ronon approached, Sheppard glared at him, "Don't, I can walk."

Rodney remained to pay the bill, while Ronon and Beckett escorted the colonel to his suite. Before he left to get his medical kit, Beckett told Ronon to make certain that Sheppard got undressed and into bed.

After Beckett left, Sheppard raised his hand, pointing his finger at Ronon, "I can get undressed myself." He headed into the bedroom and in a few minutes, Ronon heard a thud. Rushing into the bedroom, he found Sheppard struggling to get up from the floor. He walked over and put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder.

"Stop fighting this and let me help." Positioning himself behind Sheppard, he slid his arms under the colonel's arms. Gently, he pulled him off the floor.

"Don't tell Beckett."

Ronon shrugged and grunted. "Beckett said the clothes have to go." The colonel had removed his shirt, but had only managed to get his jeans partway down his legs before he lost his balance and fell.

"Sit," Ronon ordered, then chuckled as Sheppard sat. "You must be hurting if you're listening to me." Ronon pulled Sheppard's jeans the rest of the way off.

"In the infamous words of Dr. Rodney McKay, bite me." Sheppard exhaled deeply as he lay back on the bed.

"Why didn't you tell Beckett how badly you hurt?

"Didn't want him fussing over me; cold, can you reach that blanket?"

Ronon was covering him with the blanket as they heard a knock on the door. Ronon left and returned with Rodney. Another knock sent him back to the door leaving Rodney and Sheppard alone.

"You are an idiot. We should have stayed in Bakersfield another day for you to rest. You didn't need to be walking all over that stupid ghost town, look what it got you."

Sheppard angrily replied, "This has nothing to do with the ghost town, Rodney. Don't you dare say that in front of Ronon, do you hear me?" Rodney nodded as Ronon and Beckett entered the bedroom.

"Ronon tells me that ya fell again."

"Thanks," Sheppard flashed Ronon a very annoyed glare; Ronon just shrugged. "I tripped when I was taking my jeans off, that's all."

Beckett turned to Rodney. "Get me some clean towels, and wet one of them with warm water." When Rodney returned, Beckett gently cleaned the knife wound, laying a piece of gauze over the cut. He went to wash his hands and when he returned, he pulled a suture kit from his medical bag.

He watched as Beckett laid equipment out as if he was going to do surgery. "You always bring suture kits with you when you travel?"

Beckett smirked. "Only when I travel with you, colonel. Now lay still, I have to re-suture this area, but I'm gonna numb it first." Beckett worked quickly to repair and re-dress the wound as Rodney and Ronon stood by quietly.

"There, laddie, good as new; now, let's get a shot in you for the pain." He was reaching for syringe when Sheppard started to protest. It was Beckett's turn to glare. "You are going to take this pain medication, if I have to have Ronon hold you down. I've allowed you to be stubborn all day when I shouldn't have. Now be quiet, or I'll give it to ya in your bum." He injected Sheppard with the drug, then pulled the rest of the covers over the colonel.

"Now, colonel, you are going to sleep, and tomorrow you are going to rest. That's an order. You're the one who says we have all the time in the world. Well, we're taking it."

Beckett was reaching for the bedside light to turn it off, when Sheppard spoke, already sounding groggy, "Hey, guys; you go on out and have fun. I'll be fine here; don't let me ruin your night."

"No, laddie, not leaving you alone," Beckett said.

Ronon offered, "I'll stay with him, doc. I can watch movies and stuff; we'll be fine."

Looking over at Rodney, Beckett said, "I can call to check on him. I would like to at least to talk a walk around and see the place. You OK with that?" Rodney nodded.

Once Carson was satisfied that Sheppard was sleeping peacefully, he and Rodney left Ronon to keep watch over Sheppard. They were going out on the town.

 

~~ooOoo~~  
"Carson!"

Rodney grabbed him, pulling him back onto the sidewalk seconds before a fast moving car sped past them. "You have to watch where you're going. You're gonna get hit by a car."

Carson was shaking from his narrow escape; he blew out a deep breath. "Thank you, Rodney. I was looking at the scenery. I dinna see that the traffic light had changed. It's hard to tell the difference from all the dazzling bright colors."

"Honestly, you've seen more dazzling things than most people will ever see. Yet, you are overwhelmed by the cheap lights of Vegas."

"It's amazing here, you can't tell me that you don't think Vegas is cool."

"Cool…really?"

After leaving Sheppard and Ronon, they strolled through Caesar's large opulent casino, then decided to take a walk along the Vegas Strip. They paused at Sheppard's infamous fountains to marvel at how impressive they were lit up. By the time they reached the street, Carson was totally mesmerized and nearly walked out into oncoming traffic.

The light changed, "Now we can go, Carson." They walked across the street, jostled by the large crowd.

Once they were on the other side of the street, they found themselves in front of Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. "Let's go get a margarita, Rodney; that looks like a fun place."

"Since when did you become a bar-hopper, Beckett?"

"Oh, I forgot; you spent all your time in classrooms. Did ya never go to a bar while you were in college?"

"No."

Beckett frowned, "Come on, let's get a drink."

"I'm not getting drunk like I did the other night."

"Then don't drink so much." Beckett grabbed Rodney's arm and steered him into the busy restaurant. They found a couple of empty stools at the bar and ordered margaritas. They listened to the music, and watched the people, absorbing the ambiance. Forty minutes, and two drinks each, later Rodney leaned over to Beckett.

"I think we should do some gambling."

Rodney, you can't gamble. You are the easiest tell on the planet."

"I am not going to play poker; that's Sheppard's game. I'm going to play blackjack. I have a system. Pay the man and let's go." He hopped off the barstool and headed for the door.

"Why do I have to pay?" Beckett sighed, "Cheeky bastard." He quickly paid the bill. Then he rushed out the door to catch up with Rodney, who had crossed the side street and was walking down the Strip.

"Rodney, wait; where are you going?"

'There," he pointed to the bright glittering façade of Harrah's, "we're going there."

Striding like a man on a mission, McKay headed for Harrah's, Carson on his heels. They slipped past the crowded Carnival Court shops and through the west entrance into the casino.

Carson grabbed Rodney's arm, "What are ya doing?"

"I am going to play blackjack."

"Rodney, you shouldn't gamble; you always lose."

"I'm always playing with a bunch of card sharks; you know Sheppard and his grunts. That's a lifestyle with them. Here with the 'Average Joe' off the street; it's a piece of cake."

"You think you won't be playing with card sharks in Vegas, Rodney?"

"Stop worrying, Carson, piece of cake."

Rodney headed for the blackjack tables and found an open table. Sitting down, he laid two hundred dollars on the table layout. Looking at the dealer, he said, "Change please." The dealer gave him a pile of chips, and then pushed the money into a locked drop box.

Carson watched Rodney for a bit before he became restless, and began to amble around the casino. For the next two hours, he played a few games of black jack at another table, hit the roulette wheel, and then played the slots. He was getting a bit light headed from the free drinks, but he was having fun. It was nearing midnight when he decided to check on Sheppard. He found a relatively quiet corner to place the call, satisfied when Ronon told him that Sheppard was still sleeping soundly. He decided to wander back to where Rodney was still playing blackjack.

When he rounded the corner to the area where the blackjack tables were located, he saw a huge crowd surrounding Rodney's table. He inched his way through the people to see only Rodney and one other man playing blackjack. Rodney had a huge pile of chips in front of him. The majority of the chips were black, $100 chips.

The dealer had just busted, and Rodney was sitting at 20, the other player at 19. Rodney grinned with delight as the dealer pushed another large stack of chips toward him. Carson pushed his way gently through the crowd to stand at Rodney's elbow.

"Rodney, you've won all those chips?"

Rodney turned to look at him, his faced flushed, and his eyes slightly glazed. Carson was certain that Rodney had enjoyed a few free drinks as well. He giggled as he replied, "Told you, piece of cake."

The other player, a burly man wearing a too-tight black nylon shirt and heavy gold jewelry was glaring at Rodney. He leaned over and whispered gruffly, "You're cheating. I know you are. I just haven't figured out how, jerk, but I will."

Carson flushed, adrenaline coursing though his body. He didn’t like the looks of the man staring at Rodney. "We should go. I'm getting tired, and you've won enough." Carson tugged at Rodney's sleeve, "Come on."

"I'm not ready to go."

"Yes, ya are. Grab your chips and let's go cash out."

Rodney frowned, but reluctantly started gathering his chips, when the other player grabbed his wrist. "Where the hell do you think you're going? You aren't going anywhere until I figure out how you cheated. I want my money." The man jumped up from the chair and grabbed Rodney by the shirt collar.

Carson reached for the man's arms, but casino security was quicker. They had the large man under restraint within seconds. A man in a suit with a Harrah's ID badge approached, "Benari; I warned you that if you made another scene in here, you were banned from the casino. Consider yourself banned." He gestured to the security guards, "Get him out of here."

Benari was livid, "He's cheating. I know he is." He shrieked as the guards dragged him away.

The Harrah's floor manager turned to Rodney. "Look; we were watching you, thought you were counting cards. However, you lost too randomly, so we figured you were just having a lucky night. Enjoy your winnings and visit Harrah's again soon." He turned to another security guard, "Escort the gentlemen to the cage and see that they get cashed out." They had been summarily dismissed.

As they were waiting to cash out, Carson whispered, "What were you thinking? You were counting cards, weren't you? You idiot, you could have been arrested."

Rodney smirked, answering quietly, "No, it's not illegal. All they can do is ban you from the casino. Besides, I was too smart for them. They were trying to trip me up, by distracting me and shuffling the decks more often. But….genius here," he pointed to himself, grinning, "I was too quick for them."

Carson shook his head as he stepped to the cashier's window and dumped his chips in the tray." The pretty girl behind the glass smiled as she passed a hundred and seventy-five dollars back.

"Really, Carson…that's all?" Rodney dumped his chips; it took a couple of minutes before she placed his cash in the tray. "See, this is how it's done; seven thousand, one-hundred and twenty dollars."

Carson was stunned, and speechless. Rodney grinned wickedly, and headed out the door, after stuffing his winnings in his pocket.

They walked out into the steamy night and headed for the sidewalk. There was a huge crowd of people milling about and Rodney motioned for Carson to follow him. "Carson, this way; it's less crowded."

They headed along a thick line of shrubbery toward the opening to the sidewalk. As they approached the opening, a deep angry voice came from behind them.

"You really didn't think you were gonna get away with my money did you? You were counting cards; I know you were. Now hand over the money."

Rodney felt a hard object pressing into his back, "No, I'm not giving you the money. You were counting cards just like I was, I was just better. You're an amateur." He got the reaction he wanted.

Benari raised the gun to hit Rodney over the head, and the scientist turned pushing his shoulder into the large man's chest. Benari fell over hitting his head on the pavement. Before the two men with him could react, Rodney grabbed Carson's arm and headed back into the casino.

Once inside, Rodney steered straight for the escalator that led to the showrooms, pushing Carson in front of him. As they stepped off the escalator, Rodney spotted a door at the end hallway to his left. He ran to the door, finding it unlocked, and motioned for Carson to follow him. Just as the door closed behind them, they heard Benari's voice.

"I saw that bastard head up the escalator. Keep looking; I want him."

Rodney looked down the dimly lit hall, "That way." The two men ran toward the end of the hall where heavy curtains covered the opening. Music from the showroom was drifting into the hallway. They halted abruptly as a door opened in front of them. Rodney grabbed the handle before the door closed, and dashed inside; neither man saw who had disappeared behind the curtain.

As Rodney peeked into the hallway to determine if they had lost Benari, he felt Carson's tug on his sleeve. Carson whispered, "Rodney, turn around."

Rodney pivoted around, shock registering on his face. The shock quickly replaced by his skin flushing bright crimson, and then a wide grin emerged. "Well, Carson, if we were going to hide, not a bad place to pick."

The two men were facing a large room full of showgirls in various states of undress, mostly undress. Carson was eye to chest with a very tall cinnamon skinned dancer, with absolutely nothing on.

"Oh…uh…sorry…ladies," he tried to draw his eyes to her face, but his eyes kept drifting down. "It's OK…I'm a doctor."

She ran her fingers along his jaw, "Well, if you’re a doctor, then it's most certainly fine. I imagine the girls would love a physical from a little cutie like you."

Another showgirl, clad in costume, walked up to Rodney. She smiled and asked, "You a doctor, too, honey?" She was a few inches taller than Rodney, who managed to stammer a reply.

"Uh…uh…I…I am…a, not a medical doctor, an astrophysicist."

"Oh…cute and smart; don't get many like you very often. Now what are you boys doing in here?"

Carson replied, "Some guys were chasing us, they got mad because Rodney won some money at blackjack. They thought he cheated."

She asked, "Did you?"

"No, no…"

"So I take it, you need a way out of the hotel." Both men nodded. "Follow me, I show you how to get out the service bay."

They followed her into the hall as the cinnamon-skinned showgirl called after them. "We get off at three, come back and party with us, doctors." Beckett blushed again, giving her a little wave.

The showgirl led them through the curtains, and they found themselves backstage. The music was loud; someone was singing, 'Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend.' She led them behind the stage to the opposite side, pulling the curtains back. "Follow this corridor, at the end is an elevator which will take you to the ground level and the service bay. You can leave the hotel through the back gate.

"Thanks." Rodney said, and Carson nodded.

"No problem, glad to help a couple of sweet guys."

She turned to leave, both men watching her walk away, the feathers on the rear of her costume wiggling as she swayed. After taking a deep breath, Carson said, "Come on, Rodney. I want to go back to Caesars."

The elevator deposited them in the large service bay where supply trucks were unloaded. There was a security guard sitting in a small enclosure, but he didn't notice the pair as they slipped around the perimeter of the bay. One of the large garage doors was open and Carson and Rodney, stepped into the balmy night air. Carson turned to his right to head back to the Strip, but Rodney stopped him.

"No, let's go this way, we'll circle the block and go up the street that leads to Caesar's driveway. That way, that maniac won't be able to find us."

"Rodney, it's dark that way. We should head where the crowds are."

Rodney snarked, "Afraid of the dark?"

"Yes, I am, and so are you."

"Come on…" Rodney took off toward the left.

Within a couple of minutes, they were following a dark street, the track for the monorail above their head. They were only half way down the block when they heard a woman's cry.

"Please, let me go; let me go." She was pleading. The only answer was muffled laughter.

Carson and Rodney stopped, and in the pale light, they saw three men surrounding a woman backed against a wall. Carson whispered, "We canna let them harm her."

"What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Call the police, Rodney."

Just as Rodney pulled out his phone, one of the men turned around. "Well, well, lookie here; we got us some good Samaritans. You boys think you gonna stop us from having some fun with this little lady?" He and one of the other men started walking toward them; one had a large knife.

"We don't want any trouble, laddies; just let her go."

"Laddies? Listen to that cute little accent, maybe we should have some fun with him, too."

As the gang member moved closer to Carson, Rodney spotted a pipe leaning against the monorail pillar to his right. He backed up, edging closer to it, until he felt the cold steel touch his fingers.

"Where you going? You think, you're gonna get away?" The man with the knife got closer, brandishing the blade. Rodney grabbed the pipe and lashed out, striking the man's arm. The knife went flying through the air, clanking as it fell several feet away. Angry, the man swung out at Rodney, striking him in the jaw. As he fell, he saw that Carson was already on the ground and not moving. Before he lost consciousness, he heard sirens coming closer. Then his world turned black.

~~ooOoo~~

Ronon was dozing, stretched out on the long couch. He rarely slept soundly when one of his teammates was injured; preferring to remain ready should they need something. The soft tone of the telephone behind his head roused him. He reached behind him for the handset.

"Yeah," he answered, then listened for a few minutes. "Rodney, what the hell are you talking about, slow down." He listed for a bit more, "No, I will not wake him up."

Another minute went by, "I want to talk to Carson."

"Carson, do you really want me to wake him up?" He waited, then replied. "OK, but you better be ready to explain this to him." He paused, "We’ll be there."

Ronon rose and walked into the bedroom. He turned on the light next to the bed, "Sheppard, wake up."

Sheppard didn't stir, so Ronon gently shook him. That didn't work either, so he tried a couple more times before Sheppard moaned.

"Leave me alone."

"Sheppard, you got to get up."

"Wha…what time is it?"

"It's 3:22."

He rolled over, "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"No, Sheppard, it's still dark. You've only been asleep for about six hours."

The colonel moaned and buried his face in the pillow, "Then go away."

Ronon jerked the covers back, "You gotta get up; McKay and Beckett called, and they need you."

Sheppard opened his eyes slightly, "N-need me? Why, what's wrong?"

"They're in jail."

Sheppard's eyes snapped open, looking at Ronon, hoping he was joking. However, the big man didn't look happy. Sheppard sighed, "Crap…hand me my pants."

~~ooOoo~~

They took a taxi to the main police station, located on Las Vegas Boulevard, near the airport. Sheppard walked up to the front desk and waited for the sour-looking sergeant to acknowledge him. He chuckled as he watched the sergeant's eyes tracked past him to Ronon, a suspicious look crossing the officer's face.

"I was told to ask for Detective Palmer; I'm Colonel John Sheppard."

The sergeant stared at him, "Colonel? You don't look like any colonel I ever had."

Sheppard smirked, "Air Force."

"Oh," the officer replied as if that explained everything, "wait here, I'll let him know."

Ronon motioned for Sheppard to sit. Ronon chose to stand, making eye contact with the sergeant, who eventually stopped staring. Five minutes passed before, Det. Palmer came into the waiting room.

"Colonel; I'm Detective Palmer."

Sheppard rose slowly, extending his hand to the older man. "Detective; I'm Colonel Sheppard, and this is Ronon Dex." The detective nodded to Ronon, as Sheppard flashed his credentials to Palmer.

"Sorry to bring you down here, but we wanted to check out their story. McKay and Beckett told the officers they worked for the Air Force. They didn't look like military, so I started to call over to Nellis and check out the story. They begged me not to, said you could vouch for them.

"I can, they are members of my team. We're currently on leave, just seeing the sights.

So, what's going on here, detective. Are my friends under arrest?"

"No, after they were treated…"

"Treated, are they injured?"

"No, not seriously, both got knocked out, and one needed stitches on his face. They'll be fine. As I was saying, the officers brought them back here from Desert Springs Hospital for questioning. Your 'friends' had a couple of little adventures tonight. We got a report of a problem at Harrah's. It seems they got tangled up with a local hood, named Frank Benari. Then, while they were escaping from him, they snuck out the back of the Harrah's. They were headed back to Caesar's when they stumbled onto some local gang bangers who were about to rape a woman. Apparently, they interrupted the attack, getting knocked out for their trouble. Fortunately, one of them called 911 and the dispatcher was able to pinpoint the location from the phone's GPS."

"I take it, you aren't holding them."

"No, not after we found out where the money came from."

"Money?"

"Yeah, looks like they did OK at the blackjack table. The officers found that one of them had several thousand dollars on him. They had heard the call regarding some men being chased through Harrah's. Since they didn't know what the call was about, they took them into custody until they could sort things out."

Sheppard tried not to laugh when he heard Ronon snicker. "Can we spring them from here now, detective."

"Yeah, I'll have their personal belonging brought to the front desk." He turned to an officer standing nearby, "Pete, take these gentlemen to holding room four; those two guys are free to go."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, shaking the detective hand once more. As the detective turned to leave, Sheppard asked, "Do they know they are free to go?" The detective answered no.

When they arrived at the holding room, Sheppard asked the officer to give them a few minutes, he wanted to talk to his friends. The officer told him to take his time.

Sheppard opened the door, to find Rodney and Carson both sitting at a table in the center of the room. They both stood up as the door opened.

"Well, you two look like you just got taken to the principal's office. You, OK?" Both men shook their heads yes. Sheppard motioned for them to sit.

"Quite the shiner you got there Rodney."

"Yeah, well…" Rodney voice trailed off.

"Carson, stitches?" There was a bandage on Carson's left cheek.

"Aye, John; good stitcher took care of me, probably won't scar."

Sheppard nodded, then slowly sat down. Beckett, despite his own injury, was watching the colonel's every move.

"Sorry that we had to wake you, lad. I…we…should've been more careful."

"What happened?"

For the next ten minutes, Rodney and Carson talked over each other to tell the story of their night. Finally, Sheppard stopped them.

"OK, enough; let's go." He stood up, using the table as leverage.

Rodney looked blankly at him, "Go? They aren't holding us?"

"No, they aren't; they were just waiting for me to confirm your story about being with the Air Force. You are free to go, and you should consider yourself lucky." He looked at Ronon, "I don't know about you, big guy, but I'm hungry. Let's find a diner and McKay, you're buying."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in booth in the Coffee Shop, which was open twenty-four hours. Recommended by their cabbie, the diner was located in the Treasure Island hotel, a few blocks north of Caesars. Sheppard was satisfied; a large pot of coffee, already half empty, was sitting on their table.

"Seriously, Rodney; you counted cards?"

Rodney was slightly less morose than he had been at the police station, "Yes, Sheppard; I counted cards. I told 'Mr. Worrywart' over here that it was a piece of cake, and it was. Even the dealer tried to catch me, and he couldn't."

Sheppard shook his head in amazement, "You counted cards…you suck at cards. I'm not so surprised that you could count cards, just that you could hide your glee at winning long enough not to get caught. You aren't exactly known for your poker face. How did you learn the techniques of counting cards and how the casinos try to beat card counters?"

"Did you really think that I was working the entire time I've been glued to my pad? Nope, been learning how to win at Blackjack." Rodney preened, quite pleased with himself.

Carson was touching the bandage on his cheek, squinted as he touched a tender area. "Cheated…you cheated and then got us into trouble."

"Well, I'm not playing cards with you any more. Although, I could win all that money from you playing poker." Sheppard chuckled, eliciting a smirk from Rodney.

The server brought their food, setting a large plate of country-fried steak, eggs, and hash browns down in front of Sheppard and Ronon. Carson got eggs Benedict, and Rodney, a ham and cheese omelet. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Carson spoke.

"Aye, this brings to mind nights out at home with the lads; we'd drink, then get so hungry. Sittin' here reminds me of the Tam O'Shantner pub in Ayr on the West coast of Scotland. They had the best Haggis with neeps and tatties topped with whisky cream sauce."

"What's Haggis?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard laughed, "You don't want to know…but then you might like it."

Carson explained Haggis, laughing at the disgusted face Rodney made, and neeps and tatties, better know as potatoes and turnips, to Ronon.

Between mouthfuls of eggs, Ronon said, "Sheep's stomach…we had something like that on Sateda. I would like that."

"Well, you are welcome to it." Rodney shuddered.

"You haven't given us any details about your excursion into the showgirls' dressing room? So, tell us." Sheppard's grin was bordering on evil.

Embarrassed and turning slightly pink, Carson murmured, "Me mum would kill me if she knew I was in that dressing room."

"Carson, you're a grown man. I wouldn't be worrying about your mother." Rodney said.

"Come on, guys, details."

They sat there for another hour, consuming another large pot of coffee, discussing the particulars of Carson and Rodney's night; then took a cab back to Caesar's Palace.

As they were getting off the elevator on their floor, Rodney lamented, "Well, everyone has stitches now, but me."

Carson sneered, "Really, Rodney, not something to wish for."

Ronon slapped him on the back, "Don't worry, McKay; this is only our first night in Las Vegas. You've got plenty of time."

"Colonel, you OK; do you need help?" Carson asked.

"I'm fine, I'll take those pills you left, I promise. And the first person who wakes me in the morning, will need stitches."

The four friends parted, heading for their rooms. Each wondering what adventures the next day would bring.

 

 _End of day one in Vegas…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sheppard's still dealing with his injuries and Rodney and Carson have a brush with the law. Hopefully, their second day in Vegas will be an uneventful one.


	4. Vegas....Baby: Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two finds the guys trying to relax and enjoy themselves...

**Trip Segment 3: Vegas...Baby: Day 2**

 

John Sheppard moaned as he rolled onto his back, cursing himself for sleeping on his side. Opening his eyes, he slowly adjusted to the dim light in the nearly darkened room. A slight opening in the heavy drawn drapes allowed a streak of shimmering light to penetrate the darkness. Glittery dust danced along the narrow beam of light, mesmerizing him.

He completely lacked the aspiration to get out of bed, which was extremely abnormal. Most mornings, even on a rare day off, he rose by 0500 hours, usually meeting Ronon for a long run. Today was different, today, he felt like remaining in bed.

Still staring at the dancing speckles of dust, he pondered the events of the last few days and what they had experienced. It already seemed like an eternity, since they pulled out of the warehouse lot in San Francisco, heading for wine country. Sheppard was beginning to believe they were jinxed, so much for a lazy, fun, uneventful vacation. The purpose of the trip was to give them time to relax, allow some of the past five years of endless conflict slip away. In addition, Sheppard and Woolsey wanted to keep Rodney away from the scientists of Area 51. There would have been definitely been bloodshed there.

Bloodshed, there had certainly been bloodshed on this excursion. As usual, the preponderance of shed blood belonged to one Colonel John Sheppard. Sheppard scoffed, reminding himself, 'what did he expect?' They rarely sought trouble; trouble always seemed to track them down.

Sheppard felt anger building inside; anger directed at himself. As irrational as he knew it to be, he felt he should have avoided being stabbed. He should have protected himself better when that biker lunged at him. If he had not been knocked out by pain medication, he would have been with Carson and Rodney last night. He could have prevented the danger they had stumbled into.

He laughed aloud, then yelled at the world, "Who the fuck are you kidding, John? You really think you can keep bad things from happening." His thoughts were racing, "You are not omnipotent; you are a fucking, screwed-up, Air Force jet jockey. People think you are special because you have a freaking abnormal gene; you are so far from special. You're the freaking opposite of special." He tossed back the duvet, sitting up abruptly. A move he very quickly regretted.

Severe pain radiated through his side, nausea overcoming him. He struggled to get out of bed, afraid he was going to throw up, but as the pain faded, the nausea did as well. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, until he began to shiver from the air conditioning blowing over him. Glancing at the clock by the bed, he was stunned to see that it was 10:14 AM. He never slept for that long, unless he was injured; then he remembered, he was injured.

Standing up cautiously, Sheppard padded across the bedroom toward his open suitcase. He tugged a pair of track pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt out, slipping them on. Wandering into the suite's living room, he noticed a tray holding a pot of coffee and a plate of bagels and pastries, resting on the dining room table. Alongside the tray was a note scribbled in Rodney's hand.

"We're headed to the pool, and don’t even think of asking me which pool. This place has too many of them; Garden of Gods…really, how excessively gaudy and pretentious. Carson ordered the food and said for you to eat before you join us, and to take the pills he left. When you wake up, call me."

'Call me'...crap, that meant Rodney found his phone; Sheppard was really hoping he hadn't been pestering Atlantis. He poured a cup of lukewarm coffee, warming it and a bagel in the microwave. He sat on the couch, flipping on the TV. Ten minutes of news, then he changed the channel until he found a rerun of Criminal Minds, watching until it ended. Grabbing more coffee and a cinnamon roll, he noticed the pills still lying next to the tray. He hesitated, then decided he really didn't want to hurt as he had the day before; reluctantly, he swallowed the pills.

Retrieving his phone from his jacket pocket, he dialed Rodney, surprised when Carson answered. "Carson, why are you answering Rodney's phone?"

"A good morning to you, too, John, and how are you feeling this lovely morning?"

"Uh…sorry, Carson; let me rephrase that, good morning to you. To answer your question, I am feeling better, and before you ask, I took the pills."

"Good, lad; now to answer your question, Rodney must have taken his phone from your room this morning, when we delivered the coffee and food for you. I took one of your room keys last night, so I could check on you without disturbing your sleep. When we got to the pool, Rodney immediately started to call Atlantis. Ronon snatched the phone from him; let's just say Rodney was a bit miffed. Ronon then gave it to me when he decided to jump into the water. Wait 'til you see him, laddie, Ronon's having a wee bit of fun."

"Which pool are you at?"

"I believe it's called the Neptune…we're on the far side from the entrance, Rodney rented us a cabana."

"OK, I'll join you guys shortly."

Sheppard hung up and debated on whether to take a shower, but decided it would sap too much energy out of him. Rummaging for his swim trunks and sandals, he stripped out of his clothes, put on the trunks and a short sleeve t-shirt. Grabbing his sunglasses, iPod, and room key, along with another cinnamon roll, he headed for the pool.

It was the Friday of a holiday weekend, and the hotel was brimming with tourists. The weather was beautiful, already nearing 80 degrees. Sheppard was enjoying his stroll through the multiple pool area the hotel called the Garden of the Gods and Rodney called pretentious. Not only were the pools beautiful, but the bikinis scattered about were as well. He asked a pool attendant for directions to the Neptune and soon spotted Rodney and Carson. Carson was lying on a large blue cushioned lounger in the sun, and Rodney had tucked his lounger as far under the cabana awning as it would go.

Rodney ignored him. The scientist was immersed in his pad, only glancing up when Sheppard jostled his chair as he passed by, heading to the unoccupied lounge chair next to Rodney.

"That's mature, Sheppard; 'bout time you got up and joined the wide-awake."

"Can you get any further under the cabana, McKay?"

"I refuse to become sunburned."

"Nice shiner, it flatters you." Sheppard chuckled, as Rodney grimaced at him.

Sheppard laid his things down on the small glass side table, glancing at Carson.

"Dr. Beckett, I suspect you have had a bit too much sun already. However, I must say, you are turning an enchanting shade of pink."

Rodney taunted, "I've been trying to tell him, but he's pig-headed and won't listen to me."

Carson lifted his head, looking down at his reddened chest. "Aye, laddie, I suspect you might be correct; I do believe I have had quite enough sunshine for now." He rose, moving over to a lounge chair underneath the white tent. When Sheppard stood to help him scoot the chair around, Carson raised his hand.

"Stop, John; you are forbidden to do anything strenuous today. I'll not have you ripping those stitches again; now, sit down, relax, and behave yourself."

Chastised, Sheppard sat down, slowly swinging his long legs onto the lounge chair. He had barely settled in when an attendant was at his chair-side asking if he wanted something to drink. He ordered bottled water and then lay back in the comfortable chair.

Carson settled in his lounge chair, and picking up a glass, took a long sip of what Sheppard thought was a Bloody Mary. The doctor noticed Sheppard looking at him, "How are ya feeling?"

"Good," Sheppard replied; however, Carson didn't appear convinced. Sheppard continued, "Really, Carson, I feel much better. My ribs don't hurt as badly as they did yesterday, and my head's much clearer; I'm fine."

"Well, that's good, but you are still resting today, nothing strenuous."

Sheppard changed the subject, "How the injury?"

Carson touched his cheek, "Tender, bruised, but otherwise, I'm fine, too."

The attendant arrived with an ice-cold bottle of water, along with a glass full of ice and tiny plate of sliced lemons. As Sheppard was opening the bottle, he noticed that Ronon was not in sight.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked, and in reply, Rodney pointed toward the pool.

It took Sheppard a moment to spot Ronon through the crowded pool. The Satedan was standing in the shallow end of the pool, surrounded by several young women. A small net had been placed into the pool; Ronon and his bevy of girls were playing an energetic game of volleyball against a group of young men.

"Well," Sheppard chuckled, "it appears our boy's doing OK for himself."

Carson snickered, "Yeah, he was watching the lassies and lads playing, and the boys were winning. They were also gloating because the wee lassies were playing so badly. Ronon decided to even the odds, much to the dismay of the laddies."

"Well, that's not good…for the boys, but the girls sure seem to be enjoying the help."

Sheppard and Beckett spent the next half-hour watching Ronon single-handedly defeat the guys, while the young women squealed with delight. Ronon finally decided that he had had enough, and left the pool, this time to the dismay of the girls. Sheppard chuckled as he watched the girls follow Ronon's exit from the pool then turn back to look at the guys. Frowning in unison, the girls climbed out of the pool; the guys reluctantly following, looking quite dejected. Poor kids, he thought; in the girls' eyes, the young men just didn't measure up to Ronon.

Ronon grabbed a towel to dry off, but first he shook his head as a dog might, sending droplets of cool water throughout the cabana. Sheppard and Carson laughed, while Rodney sputtered something about being careful.

Sitting down on the end of Carson's lounge chair, Ronon grinned at Sheppard, "So, you decided to get up."

"Didn't have anything better to do this morning; you, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely, Sheppard teased.

Ronon peered toward the lounge chairs on the far side of the pool where the young people had gathered. "Yeah, well; I never liked bullies, and those guys were just a bit too full of themselves."

Beckett, who had just ordered his second Bloody Mary of the day, giggled, "Those lassies are quite enamored with you. As for the laddies, I don't think they like you very much."

As Ronon plopped down on a lounge chair next to Beckett, a server brought a platter of sliders, mini-tacos, and Buffalo wings. Sheppard looked at Rodney, "You hungry again?"

"Bite me, Sheppard; yes, I am hungry." Clumsily, Rodney reached for a slider, his eyes still glued to his pad. He managed to poke his finger into a taco, before he snagged a little burger.

Sheppard was watching him, "Rodney, what are you doing? You aren't working, are you?"

"No, flyboy; I am not working. As a matter of fact, I'm having fun."

Beckett moaned, "Yeah, the last time you had 'fun' on that thing, you thought you had become a card shark and look where that got us."

Rodney looked up from his pad, "Well, I won, didn't I?"

"Winning isn't everything, McKay." Sheppard mumbled, having stuffed a mini-taco, followed quickly by a slider, into his mouth.

Rodney sniped, "Really, Sheppard? Those are big words coming from a man who got royally pissed off when Sergeant Johnston beat the crap out of you at basketball."

"Hey, Johnston's got nearly four inches and about fifty pounds on me; besides, I didn't have any idea someone that big could be so damn quick. The fact is Johnston fouled me on the way to that basket, which won the game. Jeffers screwed up and didn't call it; that's why I lost."

"Yeah, yeah, winning doesn't matter; I get it." Rodney rolled his eyes, and reached for a wing only to find Ronon's fingers wrapped around the last one. "Hey, I wanted one of those."

Ronon laughed, as he ate the last wing, then licked his fingers, "Shouldn't have been running your mouth, McKay.

Rodney frowned, sighing deeply, and muttered, "Whose bright idea was it to go on this trip?"

Sheppard grinned, "It was my idea, Rodney. Why, aren’t you having fun yet?"

Expecting a snarky remark in return, Sheppard was shocked when Rodney yelled, "Yes!"

"You are having fun, Rodney? " Beckett asked, as surprised as Sheppard.

Rodney beamed, "I am now. He was positively gleeful, "I just scored four great tickets to tonight's Celine Dion concert at the Colosseum for us."

"Oh, crap," Sheppard sank back on the lounger, a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

Rodney sat up, "That's your comment, Sheppard, 'Oh, crap.' Great critique from a man who likes Johnny Cash…you don’t have a clue about good music."

Ronon was puzzled, "Who's Celine – whatever?"

"A scrawny Canadian chick, who screams instead of sings…" Sheppard replied, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Rodney snarled, "You know, Sheppard; you don't have to come with us if you don't want. However, I am a fan, and I want to see her perform."

Beckett interjected, "I like her, too, Rodney. It will be fun, and I, for one, am looking forward to seeing her in concert."

"No, no, Rodney, we'll all go. Ronon's never been to a concert, so he might as well see an over-the-top Vegas concert first."

"Colonel, if you're going, you need to rest this afternoon."

"Carson, I'm not five; I don't need a nap."

"Laddie, you will take a nap, and that is that." Beckett was looking at him with the expression Sheppard loathed. The expression that clearly meant, 'I can make you.' The reality was Sheppard knew he would listen to Carson when he wouldn't listen to anyone else. He simply preferred Carson remain unaware of that miniscule fact.

"I'm resting right now, Carson…this is my nap." Sheppard closed his eyes, turned on his IPod, and, to his later surprise, fell asleep within a few minutes. He was never aware of the satisfied smile that crossed the good doctor's face.

For the next hour or so, the four friends all napped as the heat from the bright sun warmed the air. It was nearly 1:30 PM, when Sheppard woke. For a moment, he felt disoriented as the sounds from the pool seeped into his hearing, crowding out a disturbing dream about the Wraith. He fought against the memory, so many dark memories. Opening his eyes, he discovered Rodney staring at him.

"You OK, Sheppard? You mumbled in your sleep, and you look like you've seen a ghost," there was an unmistakable note of concern in McKay's voice.

Sheppard sat up, suppressing a wince from the pain in his ribs; with Rodney watching him so closely he didn't want to admit his side hurt. He casually reached for his bottle of water on the small table, not giving into the pain. "I'm fine, Rodney; just didn't realize where I was when I first woke up. What time is it?"

Rodney told him and Sheppard continued, "I'm hungry, we need to get lunch." He spotted an open chair, where Beckett had been sitting, "Where's Carson?"

"He went upstairs for something, said he'd be right back."

Reacting to the sound of their voices, Ronon stirred from his nap, "Uh….went to sleep."

Sheppard chuckled, "Seems to be contagious today, big guy; must be the heat. You hungry? Wait…wrong person to ask. Rodney…OK, again, wrong person to ask. I think it's safe to say you could both eat, and I'm hungry. What do you say when Carson returns we find some real food?"

Ronon nodded, "Yeah, I could eat."

"OK, it's settled then, we eat." Sheppard leaned back onto the soft cushion, and took a sip of water. He forced himself to relax, knowing this vacation was supposed to be about relaxing.

Five minutes later, Carson returned, "I see you lads are finally awake. I was correct, wasn't I, colonel? You definitely needed a nap."

Sheepishly, Sheppard answered, "OK, OK… I'll admit I fell asleep; I imagine it was just the heat that made me sleepy."

"Yes, of course, John; getting stabbed certainly didn't take anything out of you." Carson snipped.

Sheppard started to frown, then changed his mind, "Hungry, Carson? We're planning lunch." When Carson nodded, Sheppard continued, "Didn't I see a Margaritaville across the street when we came in?"

Rodney nodded, "Yeah, Carson dragged me in there last night for drinks."

"That settles it, let's go; I have a hankering for a 'cheeseburger in paradise.'"

The men gathered their things and left the pool area, walking through the casino and lobby. With Sheppard in the lead, they exited the hotel.

"Shouldn't we change clothes, John?" Beckett asked.

"Nah, we all have on swim trunks that look like shorts, and have on t-shirts, although I am somewhat unnerved by Rodney's 'I'm With Genius' shirt. Really, could you have any bigger ego?"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Sheppard laughed, "You need to find a new insult line, Rodney. That one's becoming way too comical." He stepped off the curb and veered to the right of the fountains, heading for the pedestrian bridge.

"Where the hell are you going?" Rodney asked.

"I'm going to the pedestrian bridge that spans the Strip. Didn't you notice it when we arrived? Beats crossing at the main intersection leading into the hotel; you can get killed trying to cross the Strip there, especially on a holiday. The pedway does take us a block up from the restaurant, but it's certainly safer. Besides, the pedway provides a great view of the Strip from above."

Carson smacked Rodney on the shoulder, "Rodney, why didn't you know about the bridge? You should have seen it when we got here; you nearly got me killed last night trying to cross the street."

"Me? I wasn't the moron who wasn't paying attention, who was too overwhelmed by the bright lights, to see a car coming; besides, who saved your life?" Rodney snipped back.

As the two continued to bicker, Sheppard and Ronon picked up their pace, putting a bit of distance between them and their friends. Within a few minutes, they were crossing the bridge and on the other side of the street walking past the Flamingo Hotel, heading toward Margaritaville. When they arrived at the restaurant, McKay and Beckett were still sniping at each other. Sheppard stopped outside the entrance.

"OK, enough with the squabbling or I swear I will make you wait out here for a doggie bag." That Sheppard was in command, despite being on leave, was not in dispute. When no one answered him, Sheppard entered the restaurant, his friends in tow.

From the moment that he entered the cozy restaurant, island Calypso music floating in the air, Ronon appeared spellbound. Sheppard smiled, as he watched Ronon's gaze track from the fake palm trees to the full sized seaplane hanging from the ceiling. The host seated them in a comfortable booth and handed them menus. Sheppard scanned his menu, glancing up to see Ronon still staring at the décor. Ronon's face reflected the pleasure he was experiencing with all the new things he was seeing. Sheppard sighed; the thing he was enjoying most about this trip was seeing everything new through someone else's eyes; it was a very rewarding feeling.

"Like this place, Chewie?"

Ronon smiled broadly, "Yeah; I do. What kind of music is playing?"

Sheppard smiled back, "Well, it certainly isn't Celine Dion, " throwing a snarky grin toward Rodney, who retuned the gesture. "I had a feeling you might like this; I think you might be a natural Parrothead."

"Parrothead, what's that? Ronon asked.

The server arrived with their drinks and after they all ordered cheeseburgers, Sheppard explained what a Parrothead was and who Jimmy Buffett was. Ronon was very intrigued, "I like this music. You say this is a kind of lifestyle.

Sheppard rocked his head, "Well, it a form of relaxation more than lifestyle; at least, that's what I think. People who are fans of Buffett and consider themselves Parrotheads, still go about their normal daily lives. Parrotheads are from all walks of life; lawyers, doctors, accountants..."

"Flyboys?" Rodney smirked.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, Rodney; I'm a Parrothead. Have most of Buffett's music on my IPod, and before you ask, not one Celine Dion song."

Cheeseburgers were served and as they ate, the guys debated the merits of Buffett, Cash, Dion, and Tom Jones, Beckett's favorite. As they got up from the table, Ronon declared he wanted to go to Key West. Sheppard smiled, and promised they would go there at some point. They made a quick visit to the restaurant gift shop before they left, loading up on t-shirts, flip-flops, caps, CD's for Ronon, and a straw hat for Sheppard.

Heading back to the hotel, via the pedway, Beckett started teasing Sheppard, 'Well, laddie, for once, your hair is under control. Looks like that hat's tamed it and hidden it away."

Sheppard teased back, "Doctor, you hurt my feelings; what's wrong with my hair?"

Rodney laughed aloud, "Ha; you really aren't serious, are you? What's wrong with your hair? Have you looked in a mirror? Your hair sticks straight up, Sheppard; I imagined you've noticed."

"I have a couple of bad cowlicks, never been able to get it under control. My dad hated my hair; my mom tried to keep it laying flat, then after.., my dad made…." He stopped abruptly, silent for just a second as he realized what he was saying. He continued, "Look who's talking, McKay. At least, I have hair."

Sheppard's brief, and exceedingly rare, mention of his parents had not gone unnoticed by his friends. However, they seemed to sense his discomfort at his own candor, and they were silent as they walked down the stairs from the pedway.

Turning onto the hotel drive, Sheppard spoke, "Rodney, there's a dress code for the Colosseum. I don’t think any of us brought the proper clothes, so we need to go shopping. I detest shopping for clothes, but Ronon needs something dressier, and I need a pair of dress slacks. Next stop, the Forum Shops."

As they entered the ornate, Roman themed shopping mall on the hotel grounds, Beckett complained, "I don't want to get dressed up."

Sheppard slapped him on the shoulder, "Not dressed up, just nice slacks, a jacket and shirt, no ties, I promise. I think the dress code is 'elegantly casual', whatever the hell that means. Come on, there's Hugo Boss; we'll go there."

Sheppard emerged from the dressing room, having decided on the slacks he wanted. He heard Beckett talking to the salesperson. "Well, there is no sense in my buying these if ya canna get them altered before tonight."

"Problem, Carson?"

The salesperson answered, "I'm sorry, sir, but he insists that these pants be altered today; we can't possibly do that."

"Really? I tell you what, put everyone's purchases, as well as any alterations on this card, and have them delivered to our rooms no later than 6:30 PM." He handed a dark credit card to the salesperson, who immediately smiled, "Of course, Mr. Sheppard. I'll see to everything."

Beckett stuttered, "Y-you don't need to buy these for me, John; I can pay for them, and I will. I just don't understand why that salesperson agreed to do the alterations in time for you and not for me?"

Sheppard frowned, holding up the card, "Unfortunately, Carson, money talks and this little plastic card, the Centurion card, speaks a lot of bullshit. There is one lesson that my father taught me very well. If you throw enough money at a problem, anything is fixable. That was certainly his philosophy. This credit card represents the life I chose to walk away from a long time ago. However, I'm not stupid; sometimes, it's handy to have." He flashed a sly grin, as his left eyebrow rose, "Today, it came in handy."

Carson smiled, "John, can ya put a few new shirts on there for Rodney, something not from the 1980's?"

"I could, but then what would we have to tease him about?"

By 6:30 PM, their new, and newly altered, clothing and shoes had been delivered, and promptly, at 7:00 PM, the four men met at the elevator to walk over to the Colosseum. All of them were wearing jackets, dress slacks, and nice shoes; Sheppard had actually shaved.

"Well, I must say, we dress up quite nicely, " Beckett was preening.

"Sheppard even has his hair sort of under control," McKay quipped.

Ronon growled lowly, apparently he hadn't forgotten Sheppard's earlier discomfort over his hair. He leaned down, whispering to the scientist. "If you don't shut up about his hair, McKay; I'll get you under control." Rodney's eyes widened and he paled slightly; he wisely didn't say anything more about Sheppard's hair.

Entering the Colosseum, Rodney picked up their tickets at the on-call window, and an usher seated them on the second row, center stage. Sheppard remarked, "Good seats, McKay. How did you swing this on such short notice?"

"You're not the only one with contacts in high places; I know someone at the local university, UNLV. He's a chemist, dean of the science department, and an old friend. I remembered him once telling me that his wife's a casino exec., so I emailed him and asked if he could help me out with tickets to this concert. He came through; or at least, his wife did."

Sheppard deadpanned, "Wow, McKay, that's amazing." McKay looked quite satisfied with himself at Sheppard's response. Satisfied, at least, until the colonel continued, "Who knew you had friends?" McKay quickly became ruffled, even more so at the snickering from Beckett.

Chuckling at his friend's reaction, Sheppard smacked Rodney's arm with the program. "Don’t get all pissy, McKay; I'm kidding, you did good."

Two hours later, as they left the Colosseum at the conclusion of the show, they all agreed, Celine Dion was an incredible entertainer. Rodney and Carson were giddy. They were nearly gushing at her performance, still chattering as they reached the hotel lobby.

Sheppard stopped, "OK, hang on, you can discuss how brilliant Celine was in a minute. We need to decide where we're going for dinner. I, for one, am hungry…."

"Me, too; I don't know why we had to wait until after the concert to eat," Rodney interjected.

Slightly annoyed, Sheppard continued, "Rodney, by the time we got back to our rooms, rested (throwing a look toward Beckett, who smirked), and cleaned up, we didn't have time. Besides, you've eaten all day; you are not going to waste away or suffer from hypoglycemia, so stop whining. I'm going to ask the concierge to recommend a good steakhouse. I want steak." Sheppard walked away, somewhat gingerly, toward the concierge desk.

"Hey, doc, watch Sheppard, he's favoring his side again. He's hurting and he won't admit it."

Beckett sighed deeply, "It's a good bet that stubborn lad didn't take his meds this afternoon. Do either of you know whether he did or not?" Both men shook their head and Beckett sighed again, "That lad is going to drive me to drink."

"More than you already do, Carson?" Rodney teased.

Before Carson could reply, Sheppard motioned for them to join him. They followed him outside, where the doorman hailed a cab for them. Once seated inside the taxi, Beckett asked, "Colonel, did you take the pills I gave you after lunch?"

Sighing, Sheppard pursed his lips, "Cut me some slack, doc. I'll take the pills when I need them; I promise."

It was Beckett's turn to sigh, "I take that as a no. Well, you can take them when we get to the restaurant."

"Shucks, doc; left them in my room."

"No fear, laddie, I have some with me." Sheppard's face fell as Beckett's brightened.

"Can't win with you, can I?" Sheppard asked, dejectedly.

Ronon said, "You should learn not to try, Sheppard." Sheppard stared at Ronon but didn't have a reply; the Satedan was right.

The taxi turned onto Flamingo Road, then a few blocks later onto Paradise Road, pulling into the parking lot of the Del Frisco's Double Eagle Restaurant. Rodney paid the taxi driver, and as they walked into the restaurant, he remarked.

"Well, at least there aren't any motorcycles in this steakhouse parking lot. Maybe we won't get into a fight with a bunch of bikers tonight."

"Dream on, McKay, dream on." Sheppard opened the door and entered the elegant restaurant. Gleaming dark wood trim decorated the dining area, the classic wood bar forming the centerpiece of the restaurant.

Sheppard spoke to the maitre d, who welcomed them, "Colonel Sheppard, Caesar's concierge called requesting a table for you. Please come with me." He escorted them to a nice table in a corner.

Sheppard noticed Ronon gazing around the restaurant, as he had earlier at Margaritaville. "Not quite the same as where we had lunch, is it?"

Ronon was quiet, "You know, we had restaurants on S…at home, most were rustic, some were nice. I wonder if we had…had the time…that we would have had places like what I have seen today."

Sheppard was at a loss for words; he glanced over at Rodney, whose expression indicated he was also tongue-tied. Beckett, however, didn't hesitate to reply. "Aye, lad; it's a shame that your home didn't have the opportunity to develop. But as long as you hold their memories, what you did achieve will not be forgotten."

Ronon nodded; Sheppard was relieved that the server came to take their order, changing the subject. Once their drinks arrived, Beckett placed two pills next to Sheppard's water and tapped the table. Sheppard frowned, but swallowed the pills.

He decided to needle Carson a bit in return. "Damn, I forgot to order the turtle soup. Did you see that was on the menu, Carson?"

"Colonel, you are never going to let me forget my wee turtles, are you?"

Sheppard began laughing and after a couple of seconds, Carson joined him.

Rodney leaned on the table, "So, you enjoyed the concert didn't you? Despite all the whining, you liked it," Rodney's remarks were clearly aimed at Sheppard.

"Enjoy it, you think I enjoyed it?" Sheppard laughed, "Yes, Rodney, I did; she puts on a hell of a show. I'm actually surprised; but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The music was tremendous and the costuming…the costuming was…very nice."

Beckett smiled dreamily, "Yeah, that blue dress…that blue dress was something."

Ronon, a mischievous grin on his face, replied, "Sheppard was right. She's a bit scrawny for my taste, but that blue dress was…nice." Sheppard and McKay nodded in agreement. Ronon added very seriously, "I still like the Parrothead music better."

Sheppard laughed, "Me, too; but Rodney's right, his fellow Canadian was pretty damn good tonight."

The rest of their evening was spent talking about the concert, music in general, Ronon asking about Key West, and enjoying the delicious food. As they waited for a cab to return to Caesars, Sheppard slouched against the building, watching his friends. Ronon, Rodney, and Carson were continuing the dinner conversation, arguing about the merits of Dion vs. Buffett. This had been a good day. Exactly, the kind of day he had envisioned, when he decided they needed a break. A good day filled with relaxing fun, excellent food, and most importantly, spent with three friends, who he treasured. As the cab pulled up, he wondered if tomorrow would bring the same quiet, enjoyable day.

Two in a row would be a miracle.

 _End of Day 2 in Vegas_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice, relaxing day for the guys....can they really have two in a row?
> 
> Stay tuned...the next day of the Vegas trip is being written...will post as soon as possible!
> 
> Thanks for reading so far, I'd love to hear what you think of the road trip! I have intentions of taking them through their entire 30-day leave. If you have a suggestion as to where you think they should visit...let me know. I'll try to include it!


	5. Part 3  Vegas...baby  Day 3 and Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of 'Day 3 of the boys Vegas Adventure'…the day is filled with fun, but once night falls...well...things change.

**ROAD TRIP**

 _by stella_pegasi_

 **Part Three Vegas, Baby…**

 **Day Three: Daytime**

"Come on, McKay, get up."

Sheppard scowled, glancing at Ronon, "He hung up on me."

John Sheppard and Ronon Dex were standing outside Rodney McKay's room, attempting to wake Atlantis' chief scientist. Ronon was pounding on the door, while Sheppard called the room phone, again.

"What the fuck do you want, Sheppard?" A groggy McKay grumbled into the phone.

"I want you to get out of bed; we have places to go."

"Well, what I want is for you to go away, and leave me alone, and would you please tell Conan to stop pounding on my door. I know that's him."

"Nope, sorry, not going to happen; now open the door. We're going to grab breakfast, then it's off to have an adventure."

"It's fucking 7:00 AM, go away."

"No; now open the door like a good boy, McKay." Sheppard hung up on the scientist, smiling at Ronon. "He's getting up."

As Sheppard predicted, the door to McKay's suite flung open, revealing a very sleepy looking Rodney McKay. Sheppard and Ronon brushed past him into the living room, Sheppard heading for the window.

"What the…what do you want, Sheppard?"

"Go get dressed, McKay; we're in a hurry, "

Sheppard tugged the bulky drapes apart. The suite's living room flooded with sunlight, as Rodney continued to whine, repeating his mantra of what was Sheppard thinking waking him up so early. Sheppard turned around to chide Rodney about getting dressed, but forgot what he was going to say when he saw Rodney in the bright light.

"Rodney, what in the hell are those?"

Rodney glanced down at the bright yellow pajama pants he was wearing, then at Sheppard, somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, Madison gave me these for my birthday."

"Those pajama's are covered with happy faces, all over them, McKay." Sheppard shuddered, scrunching his face, as if he sucked on a very sour lemon.

"I know; Madison thinks I don't smile enough. She and Jeannie were shopping when she spotted these pajamas and insisted on buying them for me. Jeannie was more than happy to oblige her, and before you say something snarky, Jeannie made all the snide comments I need to hear about them."

"Get dressed, wear jeans, a zip-up jacket, and sneakers, you'll be more comfortable; meet us in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

Rodney flopped down on the couch, "Exactly where are you dragging us today?"

Sheppard answered, an impish grin spreading across his face, "The desert."

Rodney groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll ask you again, exactly where the hell are we going." Rodney mumbled through a mouthful of bacon, egg cheese biscuit he ordered at McDonalds.

"I told you, already; we're headed for the desert. You'll find out more when we get there."

"I hate you: you get me up from a sound sleep, drag me to a fast food restaurant, and won't tell me where we're going…really." He was still mumbling.

"Rodney, how much food did you get; everyone else finished eating five minutes ago."

"I only ordered two bacon and egg biscuits and two hash brown thingies."

Carson shook his head, "How could you eat that much this morning after the dinner you had last night? You had more to eat this morning than Ronon."

"I was hungry," Rodney retorted.

"Hey, doc, don't worry, doc; Rodney will be working that big breakfast off shortly."

"What does that mean, working breakfast off? Don't tell me we are going on some horseback jaunt through the desert, or something nonsensical as that."

Sheppard caught Rodney's eye in the rear view mirror, "Just wait, and you'll see."

Sheppard laughed, knowing that Rodney was not going to be happy when he found out what he had planned for the morning. Briefly, after waking up early, he had considered running and not telling Carson. He decided not to run; somehow, the good doctor always knew when he did what he wasn't supposed to do. He cruised the internet for a while looking possible destinations for the rest of the trip when he stumbled onto a website of an attraction near Vegas. That's when he began to wake up everyone.

The colonel was feeling much stronger, the pain in his side considerably less than the day before. He swallowed a couple of Advil before he left and had knocked down the residual pain. Now behind the wheel of the Rover, he was heading with his friends for what he thought was going to be a fun adventure. Fun, because the adventure sounded fun, and because Rodney was likely to whine like a five-year-old when they arrived.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a company called Bootleg Canyon Flightlines. Sheppard parked next to the building, and announced they had arrived at their destination.

"What is this place; flightlines, what the hell are flightlines? Don't tell me, you drug us out here to go flying."

Sheppard appeared quite pleased with himself, "These flightlines are cables suspended over the canyon. It's really cool; you sit in a harness and slide down the cable while suspended in the air."

"You can sit in a harness, flying across some silly desert canyon; not me." McKay sagged back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

Sheppard's opened his door, looking over the seat at the reluctant McKay. "Oh yes, McKay; you are so going to do this. Come on, everyone let's go do some flying." He hopped out of the car, feeling only a slight twinge in his side.

Carson and Ronon followed Sheppard out of the Rover; however, Rodney didn't budge. Sheppard caught Ronon's eye and within seconds, Ronon had opened the car door, unbuckled McKay's seatbelt, and hauled him out onto the parking lot, sputtering. Sheppard headed toward the front door of Bootleg Canyon Flightlines; the others fell in line behind him.

"Exactly what makes you think I am going to do this fool stunt."

"Because it's fun and because I asked you; besides, it's a good bonding experience, Rodney."

"Bonding experience, who are you, some sort of corporate guru, Sheppard; team bonding, perfect."

"We're doing this."

Carson tugged at Sheppard's sleeve, "Colonel, how strenuous is this flightline ride? I'm not certain it is something you should do."

Sheppard sighed, "All you do is sit in a harness and ride to the bottom, not strenuous at all."

" Are you sure about this, colonel; I mean, I'm not fond of heights." Carson appeared nervous.

"Piece of cake, Carson; I'd never have you do anything that was dangerous," Sheppard grinned.

After undergoing orientation from the Flightlines' guides, the Atlantians, along with a family of six, took the shuttle ride to the launch point on top of the canyon. They hiked a short distance to the launch platform and waited while the father and the two pre-teen boys were strapped into harnesses. The trio stepped off the platform and began the long slide down the canyon, shouting with glee as they descended. Sheppard chuckled silently as he watched McKay; the scientist did not look happy. Next, the mother and apparent grandparents were strapped into the harnesses and followed. The same sounds of delight trailed behind them.

"Come on, Rodney; let's get harnessed up." Sheppard slapped him on the back.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Rodney, surely you are not afraid to do this. I mean, after all you've been through, you can't be scared of a zipline?"

Rodney gazed around the mountains and ridges that surrounded them, "Have you seen how high we are up this mountain?"

"Yes, and it's beautiful; you can see Vegas and Lake Mead from here. You will enjoy the scenery; get in the harness, McKay, let loose a little."

"'Let loose', that's funny Sheppard, 'let loose'. We are about to risk our lives, tethered to a thin stand of metal, and you use the term 'let loose.' You are one sadistic flyboy."

Ronon walked over to Rodney and grabbed him by the collar, "Let's go, little man; this'll be fun."

"Relax, Rodney; we are all going to go down together, so we'll witness your demise." Beckett was already harnessed and waiting on the platform. "It really pretty up here, reminds me of Scotland, " he paused, "well not really, Scotland is green"

Within five minutes, all four men were ready to go, standing on the edge of the launch platform. The guide made one last check, giving Sheppard the thumbs up. Sheppard looked at his team, "We go on three." Sheppard counted down and even reluctant Rodney pushed off from the platform. They were flying.

As they slid along the steel cable, Ronon began to creep ahead of them, his heavier weight pulling him down faster. Sheppard was slightly in front of Rodney, with Carson, the smallest of them, trailing a tad behind. The sky was crystal blue; the mountains around them burnt red, dark brown. Grayish-beige sand dotted with scrub brush dominated the scenery.

Turning to look slightly behind him, Sheppard could see Rodney. The scientist was calmer than he had expected him to be. Especially, considering the fact that McKay had closed his eyes, his face scrunched tightly as soon as he stepped onto the launch platform. Now, his eyes were open, gazing at the scenery, a contented look on his face.

Sheppard concentrated on the amazing view. In the distance, he could see the sparkling blue water of Lake Mead tucked between the mountains, to his right, Sin City, the Stratosphere towering over the tall hotels. Las Vegas, so overpowering when on its streets, looked small and unobtrusive from above the canyon. Above the wind, he could hear Ronon's yelps of joy, and Carson's giggles. He chuckled as he thought about the Scottish doctor. Carson Beckett, full of trepidation, was giggling from the sheer delight of the flightline. Sheppard knew one thing; he was having the time of his life. Only the reverberation of the buffeting wind and the drifting voices of his teammates permeated the silence, the warm morning sun bathing his face. For the first time since they left Atlantis, he felt relaxed, at peace; he was flying.

The trip to the canyon basin consisted of four segments. After reaching the first landing pad, they hiked a short distance to the next launch pad. Ronon positively bounded toward the pad, Carson right behind him, as Sheppard fell in step next to Rodney.

"Having fun yet, McKay?"

"Oh, loads," McKay didn't look at him as he spoke, "Seems like Carson's enjoying himself."

"Yeah; I think he is and so is Ronon. Enjoy this Rodney, its pure adrenaline on a cable; don't you like the wind in your face, the gorgeous scenery?"

"You just like flying through the air."

Sheppard laughed, "Yeah…I do; it's an exhilarating experience. As hard as you try to pretend, I know you're having fun; you just don't want to admit it."

They were stepping up on the next pad, and Rodney gave Sheppard a slight, impish grin, "Well…it isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

They jumped from the pad, gliding down the next segment, and repeating the process until they reached the final landing zone. The last segment was steeper than the previous ones, and they traveled at a much faster rate. The speed had only served to increase their euphoria.

Ronon was grinning as they walked back to their vehicle, "That was awesome; I wouldn't mind doing that again. Can we rig something like that up on Atlantis? That would be so cool."

Carson laughed, "I believe that's the most words you have ever uttered at one time, laddie. I think you enjoyed the ride; I did, as well. Thanks, John, for bringing us here."

Sheppard was climbing into the Rover, "Come on; time to return to civilization...," he laughed, "well, I guess Vegas can be called civilization."

After stopping to fill up the Rover and get Ronon a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, they began the return trip to Vegas. Rodney had chosen to sit in the back seat, concentrating on his pad. Sheppard noticed but decided to leave the scientist alone, he had put him through enough already, and it wasn't noon yet.

Carson was in the front with Sheppard. "You know, laddie; the flightline was fun. I wasn't sure what to expect, but that was amazing."

"Yeah, it was fun; I've done ziplines in training before, but this time, it was just for the fun of it. I thought you guys might enjoy it."

Ronon mumbled, "I want to do that again."

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, "Chewie…you eating again?" He grinned as Ronon held up a package of chocolate cupcakes.

Carson asked Sheppard, "How are you feeling after this morning's activities?

The colonel glanced sideward, a resigned expression on his face, "I'm fine, really; sore, but fine. My head's clear, no dizziness, pain in my side has lessened; wound's beginning to itch, that's a good sign."

"That's good, John, but you should rest, nothing strenuous for a couple more days. I'll need to check your stitches sometime today, and redress that wound." He turned, looking at Ronon, "You, too; I need to re-bandage your arm." Ronon nodded in response, still eating his cupcake.

"OK, what would you guys like to do this sunny afternoon in beautiful Las Vegas; gambling, Rodney?"

Rodney only grumbled, prompting the others to laugh. Carson winked at Sheppard, "Rodney, you're on a roll, you should play blackjack again. I imagine there's a gangster or two you haven't pissed off yet."

"Har de har har…Dr. Beckett; you are such a comedian, you should book your act into one of the casino's."

Beckett laughed, "I might have a new career, colonel, what do ya think?'

"I think that we need to keep Rodney away from the gaming tables, and I think we need to find a cool diner for lunch. So keep your eyes peeled for somewhere to eat. As for this afternoon, if no one else has any other ideas, I accept the position of tour guide. We are going to play tourists."

It was just after noon when they arrived back in Las Vegas; Sheppard exited the Las Vegas Freeway onto Flamingo, heading toward the Strip. They had travelled about a mile and a half, when he exclaimed, "Lunch."

The Blueberry Hill Family Restaurant was on their right, and Sheppard turned into the parking lot of the busy restaurant. Finding one of the few empty parking places, he pulled in.

"I forgot all about this restaurant; when I was training at Edwards, after the Academy, we used to come to Vegas on leave. This was our favorite place to feast after a night of gambling and drinking. The food is great, come on, let's eat."

A twenty-minute wait for a table only whetted their appetites as they watched food delivered to the waiting guests. A friendly hostess seated them, paying particular attention to Carson, telling him as she walked away what an adorable smile he had.

Rodney was grumpy, "I expected Kirk and Conan would get all the attention from the ladies. But no, it's Carson, who all the ladies seem to like. Really?"

Carson snickered, "Rodney, I can't help that that lovely lass liked my smile, or that those showgirls invited me to come back later when they got off work."

Rodney sputtered, "They invited me, too. They liked us both since we were doctors.''

Sheppard sputtered as well, in response, "Wait, you didn't tell us that the showgirls you ran into asked you come back later. Two Las Vegas showgirls asked you two to join them after their show was over."

Preening every so slightly, Rodney said, "Yes, they both did."

Sheppard looked at Carson, then at Rodney, "Nope, not letting you two out of my sight, anymore; no telling what trouble you could get into."

Rodney grinned that little smirky grin that he always made when he thought he had outdone Sheppard, "You, flyboy, are just mad because Carson and I got the girls, and you didn't. You just want to hang out with us to get our leftovers."

"Rodney, what are we, twelve? Besides, you didn't get the girls."

"Well, we could have,'' Rodney snarked.

Rodney was spared further needling from Sheppard by the arrival of the server who took their orders. While they were waiting, Sheppard was looking over tourist brochures he picked up in an information rack in the restaurant lobby.

"Carson, what would you like to see while we are here in Vegas?"

"Me mum was an enormous fan of Liberace; she adored his dazzling smile, as she called it, and his glittery, elaborate costumes. She would play his records for hours on end, had a framed photograph of him sitting on the piano. I'd like to visit his museum and find a nice souvenir for her."

"Okay, we can do that; Rodney?" When Rodney only stared blankly at him, he pushed a brochure on the Atomic Testing Museum across the table toward the doctor, "Interested?"

Sheppard was amused as he watched Rodney's face go from disinterest to quite interested, "So, that's yes, right?" Rodney only nodded, still reading the brochure.

"Ronon; as for the two of us, you and I are going to have fun at the Stratosphere Tower. There is a ride there that you might like since you liked this morning so much, it's time for another thrill."

Their food arrived and all of them dug into the delicious fare. Sheppard was cutting another bite of chicken fried steak when he noticed Carson watching him, "Doc, what?"

"I finally believe that you are feeling better; for the last few days, you've ordered food but mostly pushed it around the plate when it arrived, eating very little. I was concerned about how much nutrition you were getting; however, today, you are eating with gusto, and that makes me very happy."

"Thanks for not nagging me about eating; truth was I didn't feel like eating. That's not the case, today; I told you that I felt better."

About thirty minutes later, the well-sated group of friends got back into the Rover, heading for the Atomic Testing Museum, which was further down Flamingo Road. As they walked into the museum, Sheppard told Rodney that he had one hour. Rodney immediately began to complain but Sheppard repeated, one hour.

They began the tour watching a short video about the Nevada Test Site and how it began, then proceeded through the galleries. Ronon enjoyed the Atomic Age Gallery that showed a lot of the pop-culture of the atomic era, then they watched a 10-minute video, which was highly interactive. The room they were in gave them the experience of being close to a bomb blast, featuring bursts of hot air, thunderous sounds, and strong vibrations. Rodney wanted to stay longer, but reluctantly, agreed to leave after buying a couple of books in the gift shop.

Sheppard headed back east on Flamingo and turned on the S. Maryland Parkway, taking them past the University of Nevada Las Vegas campus. The Liberace Foundation and Museum was a couple of blocks from the university. The front of the museum was gaudy but fun…a wavy piano keyboard, surrounding a round stage that held the metal framework of a piano, Liberace's trademark candelabra on top. They wandered his collection of pianos, costumes, and photographs before Carson selected some CD's and a poster for his mother.

Back in the Rover, Sheppard took them back to Las Vegas Boulevard, heading west toward the airport. As they passed the Stratosphere, Rodney asked, "Hey, weren't you planning on stopping there?"

"Going somewhere else first, then we'll come back; so you guys having fun yet? "

Carson answered, somewhat soberly, "I liked the Liberace museum, and me mum will love the CD's, but that Atomic museum was something. What in the world were we trying to do to ourselves."

"All in the name of war and science, Carson; there were bad people around who led to the development of that technology."

Ronon asked, "Those bombs; they the same thing the Genii have?"

Rodney answered, "The Genii's weren't quite so sophisticated but yes, about the same thing. And Sheppard, don't blame the scientists who developed the weapons, the military abused the technology, using it for dominance."

"McKay, really; you want to blame the military for using the bomb? Nobody wanted to use that damn thing, but it stopped the horror in the Pacific. The military did what they had to do to put an end to that war."

"Defend them if you will, but you know as well as I do that the military is still trying to make every feasible scientific discovery into a weapon. I mean scientists try to do good and the military undoes everything. It's…"

Sheppard interrupted him, "I cannot believe that you think all military…."

It was Carson's turn to interrupt, "Lads, enough; we are on vacation, this is not a debate."

Both Sheppard and McKay quickly looked at Carson, then sheepishly at each other. Sheppard sighed deeply, "You're right; we'll leave that discussion for another day."

No one spoke until Sheppard pulled off the street into a parking lot situated in the median. He parked and motioned for everyone to get out.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," Sheppard said, sweeping his arm out toward a sign which was the focus of the small area.

Carson exclaimed, "Oh that is so cool; I've seen this sign in so many movies and pictures." He pulled out his digital camera and began taking pictures of the iconic sign that had come to symbolize the city. They stayed for a few minutes, Carson managing to get another tourist to take a picture of the four of them under the sign.

The Stratosphere was their next stop. A hotel and casino, the Stratosphere was also home to the most recognizable structure of the Vegas skyline, the observation tower. They parked in the garage, then strolled through the lobby and casino area to the elevators that would take them to the observation lounge.

Sheppard paid the admission price and they exited into the indoor observation deck, then out onto the outside deck. It was late afternoon and the light was golden, the wind reminding them of the mountains from the morning. Above them, the Big Shot thrill ride loomed.

"Ronon, up for a ride," Sheppard grinned, pointing to the tower mast.

Ronon looked up at the people strapped into the seats' overhead, dropping rapidly toward them, "Yeah."

Sheppard turned to Rodney and Carson, ''You guys wanna join us?" He laughed as both backed up a couple of steps, shaking their heads vigorously.

When the next group strapped in, Rodney and Carson were watching nervously from the observation deck. When released, the Big Shot catapulted the passengers to the top of the 1,081-foot mast, then back down before being shot back up again. The carrier made two more trips up and back before gently coming to rest.

Sheppard and Ronon exited the ride, appearing as happy as they had on the flightline adventure in the morning. Both were grinning broadly, faces flushed.

"That was awesome," Ronon said, breathlessly.

Sheppard slapped Ronon on the back, "You just pulled 4-G's, buddy, as if you were flying a fighter jet.

Rodney was standing with his arms crossed, "So, I take it, you two enjoyed yourselves."

Sheppard grinned, "Why, yes, Rodney; we certainly did. I have to say one of the most fun things I have done."

Carson was staring at the mast above the tower, "That is one of the scariest things I have ever seen, laddie. There is no way I would ever do that."

Ronon squeezed Carson's shoulder, "You don't know what you're missing, doc."

"Okay, guys; it's nearly 5:00 PM, I vote for going back to the hotel," Sheppard said.

The others concurred, and Sheppard led the way back to the hotel garage. As he pulled the Rover onto Las Vegas Boulevard, he thought what a great day it had been. Silently, he hoped the upcoming evening was just as much fun.

 

 **Day Three: Nighttime**

John Sheppard walked through the crowded casino toward the Galleria Bar. He had become restless waiting for the others to get ready, and decided to wander down to the lobby. He called Rodney, telling him that he was heading to the bar and would meet them there.

They split up after returning to hotel. It had been a busy but rewarding day; however, Sheppard was exhausted; he hadn't run in a couple of days and the inactivity was catching up with him. He took a two-hour nap, and after waking up, took a long, hot shower. He was getting dressed when Beckett knocked, arriving, as promised, to redress his wound. Beckett had been pleased that he was healing well, then left to check on Ronon's wound. When he spoke to Rodney, the scientist was distracted, said he was working on something and would join them later. Sheppard hoped he wasn't contacting Atlantis. He had elicited a promise from Rodney that he wouldn't call Radek until they were ready to leave Vegas.

Leave Vegas, yeah, he was more than ready to leave Vegas. Even as a young lieutenant on leave, he had never enjoyed more than two to three days of Vegas. Besides, they had done many things that Ronon, Rodney, and he enjoyed; it was time to take Carson Beckett fishing.

Entering the bar, he glanced around, locating a small table surrounded by four chairs and headed for it. A comely server appeared and he ordered a Glenfiddich neat, and relaxed, slouching down in the soft armless chair. He gazed around the room, watching the few patrons, who were in the cozy, quiet bar. Most of the revelers on this holiday weekend were at the more trendy bars, or in the casinos. He liked the quiet jazz combo playing in the corner and the relative solitude of the bar. He was daydreaming about the plans he'd made for Beckett's fishing trip, when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you while I wait for my sister and her husband? Those men over there keep pestering me for a drink, and I don't want to deal with them."

The voice belonged to a very lovely woman, late thirties – early forties, with short, dark hair, and deep brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with him. He smiled slightly, and motioned for her to sit, as the server approached with his drink.

"No problem, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Not to be presumptuous but can I get you a drink?"

She shrugged slightly, "A white wine?" The server nodded and departed for the bartender.

"I'm Michelle, Micki; and thanks, I never like coming to these places alone; people seem to get the wrong ideas."

"I'm John, and a pretty woman walking into a bar unaccompanied in Vegas, or anywhere that matter, always gets someone's attention. There are jerks everywhere."

She blushed slightly at his pretty woman comment, "Yeah, there are definitely jerks, everywhere. Normally, I wouldn't have come down alone, but my sister and brother-in-law were on Skype talking to their kids. I decided to leave them 'oohing and awing' over their son and daughter's latest drawings; so, I made my escape. What brings you to this bar alone, John?

The server quickly returned with her drink. Sheppard waited to answer until she left, "I got a bit impatient waiting for my friends to get organized to come down for dinner."

"So, you're here with friends; how nice. Do you come to Vegas often?"

"No, don't have much opportunity to take time off; haven't been here in a long time."

"But you have been here before?" When Sheppard nodded, she continued, "Maybe you could give us some pointers for things to do here. We just arrived today and none of us has been here before. Maybe you could join us for dinner?" She stumbled over her words, "I mean you and…your friends."

Sheppard swallowed, sitting in front of him was a very nice, and pretty, woman, who obviously had an interest in him. He wasn't going to deny that he found her attractive and wouldn't mind getting to know her better, but that couldn't happen. The need now was to let her down gently.

"I doubt I am qualified to be a tour guide. I imagine that the concierge desk can give you some great ideas of things to do around here, besides gambling. My friends and I are leaving tomorrow, so we won't be much good as tour guides."

He watched as she deflated a tiny bit but recovered quickly. A good trait, he would definitely like to get to know her better, in another life. She took a large gulp of her wine, downing nearly half of it before she continued. As she replied, he saw Carson entering the bar.

"Well, our loss, my brother-in-law couldn't find his way out of the hotel without a map, but he's a good guy, so we overlook it. Yes, I'll check with the concierge for some tips."

Carson walked up, "Colonel, who's your lovely friend?" Carson's smile was wide and mischievous.

"Carson, this is Micki; Micki, this is Carson."

"Nice to meet you, Carson." She looked at Sheppard, looking surprised, "Colonel?"

"Yeah, Air Force," he admitted.

"No wonder you don't have much time to visit Vegas."

Before Sheppard could reply, a couple, who had just entered the bar, called out Micki's name. Picking up her wine, she rose, "There's my sister; thank you, John, for the drink. Hope you and your friends enjoy your trip; bye." She walked away, both men watching her.

"John, did I interrupt something?" Carson was looking at him, still with that mischievous smile that was not quite as wide as before.

Sheppard threw him an annoyed look, "No; you didn't."

Carson sat down, "Well, laddie…I should have been interrupting something. You need to have a little diversion."

"We talked about this, Carson, before we ever left San Francisco, and we all agreed. We would avoid any romantic liaisons on this trip. It isn't fair; we can't continue a relationship here; and none of us cares for one-night stands. Besides, eventually, we are going to be a bit far away to go to dinner or the movies, or be with anyone here. Best we just stay away from those kinds of attachments."

"Aye, laddie, I know all the reasons; but that doesn't make it any less tempting or difficult to walk away from."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sheppard sighed, watching as the lovely Micki left the bar with her family, very difficult indeed.

Carson ordered a scotch, and the two men sat in the quiet bar, waiting for Ronon and Rodney to join them. After about twenty minutes, Sheppard was reaching for his phone to call them, when the phone beeped.

"Finally, it's Rodney," he said to Carson.

"Rodney, where the hell are you?" He listened, then began to rise, "We'll be right there."

"Come on, Carson; Ronon's got a little problem outside his room," Sheppard said, as he began to walk quickly toward the entrance. Confused and concerned, Carson followed.

They ran off the elevator on their floor, to hear Rodney sputtering, "What the hell is your problem?" Down the hall, Rodney was pinned against the wall with his hands behind his back; Sheppard noticed his phone lying on the floor next to him. Four young men surrounded Ronon, two of them grasping Ronon's arms tightly. The young men from the pool. One of them, the one nearly as tall as Ronon, was taunting the Satedan, who was angry but not resisting.

"So, not so quick to show off here, when it's just us guys are you…you freak." He drew back and punched Ronon in the gut. "You made us look like fucking fools in front of our girls, and all they can talk about now is how handsome you are, what a gorgeous body you have, and how we look like ninety-eight pound weaklings next to you. I think we need to teach you a lesson not to mess with other guys' girls."

Ronon, who appeared unfazed by the blow to his abdomen, caught Sheppard's eye. The colonel nodded slightly, and Ronon knew he had his friend's permission to end this. He spoke quietly, "You were treating those girls with dishonor, making fun of their ability to play that game. It made you feel superior to them; but you aren't. You're bullies, who were enjoying bullying the women, who thought you cared about them. I just evened the odds."

"Oh…the big caveman with the creepy hair can talk," the ringleader said, as he noticed Sheppard and Carson. "Not even your friends are a match for us, about time we taught you a fucking lesson."

Sheppard shook his, head, "You're making a mistake," but the angry young man didn't listen. He struck out to slam his fist into Ronon's abdomen again, but this time Ronon reacted.

When it was over, all five young guys were lying on the corridor floor. Sheppard was helping Rodney to his feet, having dispatched the kid, who had held him, while Ronon stood in the middle of the pile, shaking his head, sloughing off his anger. Beckett began to check the prone young men, who were stunned.

Sheppard dropped to his heels next to the young man who started the fracas, "You should have quit while you were ahead. You are not now, and never will be, a match for this man physically or in any other way. You can learn something from this; you can learn to treat the women in your life better. If you do, even Ronon couldn't turn their heads." Sheppard chuckled, "Well, he might turn their heads, but they'd still like you better. Don't think they are going to like you very much after this."

As he stood up, Sheppard saw hotel security rushing to the scene. One of the security officers, walked up to him, "There a problem here?"

Beckett continued checking the guys, who were slowly getting on their feet as Sheppard answered, "No, no problem; a bit of a misunderstanding, but it's over. The kids were just confused about something, but they get it now, right guys?"

The tall one, who had confronted Ronon, took a deep breath, then answered, "We were wrong, everything's cool"

The security officer looked incredulous, but said, "Okay, let's everyone clear this hall." He walked over to the young men who were now standing together, "I remember you guys from last night, you got a little rowdy, and we had to talk to you. When are you checking out?" One of the young men mumbled 'tomorrow' and the security guy continued, laying out the ground rules for allowing them to stay in the hotel.

Sheppard motioned for his team to follow him, and they took the elevator to the lobby. The only talking done by Beckett asking Ronon if he was all right, the doctor's question was met with a stony stare.

Sheppard announced he was hungry and wanted southwestern food, as they got off the elevator, and they walked through the casino toward Mesa Grill. He'd made reservations at 9:00 PM prior to going to the bar, giving Rodney plenty of time; now they were almost late.

They'd ordered and were waiting for their food. Sheppard noticed Ronon looking around, "Still impressed with the décor, Ronon?"

Ronon nodded and Sheppard had to agree; the burled wood, and sleek contemporary lines of the restaurant were very pleasing, more so the food. They consumed several appetizers, then great entrees; sated once more, the friends left the restaurant headed for the casino.

"Okay, I feel like a poker game, anyone?" Sheppard asked.

"No, no poker for me; you always tell me that I'm horrid at poker. So you go play cards, and I'll play blackjack," Rodney quickly replied.

Carson offered, "I'll stay with him and try to keep him out of trouble, John."

"Okay," Sheppard walked ahead, then remembered he had Rodney's phone that he picked up from the hallway floor. "Hey, McKay, here…you forgot this." Carson caught the phone when Rodney missed it.

Sheppard headed for the poker room, Ronon electing to stay with the colonel. The pit boss directed Sheppard to an empty seat at a table playing a game that he was interested in, while Ronon leaned against the wall, content to watch the action.

Carson and Rodney wandered through the casino. Rodney kept looking at the blackjack table, longingly. After walking around for fifteen minutes, Carson's patience wore thin, "Okay, you go play blackjack, but do not get into trouble. Try not to count cards; I don't want to get thrown out of this hotel."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to play craps or roulette, not certain. Just meet me back here in a couple of hours." As Rodney started to walk away, Carson said, "And stay out of trouble."

With a wave of his hand, dismissing Carson's words, Rodney walked away toward the blackjack tables.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over two hours later, Rodney found Carson, in the Sea Horse Bar. The doctor was having a drink with two women, who seemed to be laughing at whatever story a very animated Carson was telling them.

"Carson, finally, I've been searching for you everywhere for the last twenty minutes. Did you forget where we were going to meet? Never mind, I want to cash out my chips," he flashed an impish grin, "let's go."

"Rodney, you are being a cheeky bastard, be polite, say hello to Sally and Maureen; they're from Minnesota."

"Hello," Rodney tossed out a weak greeting, then turned back to Carson, "Come on, Carson; I need to cash in my chips, and we need to find Sheppard and Ronon."

"Ah, Rodney, the wee lads are fine, go cash in your chips, and come back and join us for a drink." Carson was grinning, his eyes slightly glassy.

"I think you've probably had too much to drink, come on."

"No, you come back and join us, we're having a nice chat, and besides, Maureen here teaches high school science, you two have something in common."

"Sorry, but what could I possibly have in common with a high school teacher. Are you coming or not?"

Carson just stared at him, and Rodney stared back, then throwing his hands up, said, "Fine; I'll go cash in my chips and catch up with you later."

Carson sheepishly apologized to his companions and they continued their conversation. Ten minutes later, the Las Vegas police burst through the front door of the hotel, rushing toward the Palace Casino area. Carson stood up, a feeling of dread evident on his face; the police were running toward the area where Rodney had gone.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to go check on my friend." Before they could reply, Carson was on his way out of the bar.

The main lobby area of the hotel and the front of the Palace Casino was full of police and hotel security. Officers guarded the main entrance, not allowing anyone in or out of the hotel. Carson pushed his way through the crowd toward one of the police officers.

"What's going on?"

"Sir, you'll have to step back."

"I'm not going anywhere laddie, until I know what's happening here. My friend was headed to the cashier's window about ten minutes ago; I need to know that he's alright."

The officer paused, then said, "Come with me."

Pushing their way through the crowd, the officer told him to wait. Walking over to a man in a suit, he whispered to the man, who nodded and followed the officer back to where Carson stood.

"I'm Detective Hank Marshall, LVPD; you say your friend was at the cashier's window?" Carson said yes, and the detective continued, "Who are you and what's your friend's name? Can you describe your friend for me?"

"I am Dr. Carson Beckett, my friend's name is Dr. Rodney McKay; he's about average height and weight, not skinny, light brown hair with a receding hairline, blue eyes. Detective, what's going on, has something happened to him?"

"I'm afraid, doctor, that matches the description of a man who was taken hostage a few minutes ago."

"Hostage, Rodney been taken hostage? Where is he?"

"Right now, we don't know."

"You don't know? How could you not know?"

"Right now, doctor, you need to let us do our job. I want you to stay right here, I'll be back with you."

"No, I have to tell Colonel Sheppard; he's in the poker room, I'll get him and we'll be back in a minute." Carson didn't wait for the detective's answer, or realize that the detective sent the officer with him. He only wanted to get to Sheppard as soon as possible.

Carson was nearly at a run by the time he negotiated the crowded casino and entered the poker room. He stopped abruptly and the police officer bumped into him; Carson whirled around.

"Sorry sir, the detective sent me with you. Where's your friend?"

Carson spun back around, his eyes darting around the room until he spotted Ronon leaning against the wall. Carson hurried toward Ronon, then saw Sheppard sitting at a table, a large pile of chips in front of him.

"Colonel, colonel…"

At the sound of a familiar voice, Sheppard and Ronon looked over, to see Carson running toward them. Sheppard, who had already thrown in his hand for the round, stood up quickly and he and Ronon rushed to meet Carson. The fact that a police officer was with Carson, wasn't lost on Sheppard.

"Colonel, colonel, Rodney's in trouble, he…"

Carson's words were running together, and Sheppard grabbed his shoulders, "Slow down; what's happened to Rodney?"

Carson seemed unable to tell Sheppard, and the colonel looked at the officer, "What's happened?"

"Sir, there's been a robbery in the casino, and apparently, your friend was taken hostage."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon and then at Carson, "It's okay, Carson. We'll find him; let's go."

Sheppard led the way, as they headed for the main casino floor. When they reached the secured area, the officer pointed out Detective Marshall to Sheppard.

The colonel approached him, "Detective; I'm Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, Dr. McKay is a member of my team. What's happened here?

"Detective Hank Marshall," he held out his hand, and the men shook, "Colonel; we don't have a lot of information as of yet. It appears there has been a robbery at the cashiers' cage. The perps got away, taking three casino workers and a guest with them. From the description, the doctor gave us the guest may have been your friend, uh…" he looked at his notepad, "Dr. McKay. Apparently, he walked up to cashiers' window and spotted something wrong. A witness said the man yelled something like, "what the hell are you doing.' The witness said another man outside the cashier's window put a gun in his back, and hustled him through that access door that leads to the non-public areas of the hotel."

"Where are they?" Sheppard asked. His voice was even, but very measured; anyone who knew him, would realize that his tone reflected cold fury.

"We don't have any idea, colonel; I can assure you that we have a lot of people looking."

"We have an idea." The group turned to see another detective approaching, "At least, we know what happened to the hostages when they exited the hotel."

Marshall introduced the new arrival as Detective Everett Burton, who continued. "Caesars' security cameras show they were thrown into a black limo that was waiting at the VIP entrance, on Flamingo Road. We're beginning to check all traffic cams to see what direction they took from there. Roadblocks are being set up on all roads leading out of the city, and we've notified the Highway patrol. Trouble is they left in a limo; not like there aren't a few of them around."

Sheppard said, "Detectives, we'll help to search for him."

Marshall stepped closer to Sheppard, the tall detective looking Sheppard in the eye, "No, colonel; you won't, the Air Force has no jurisdiction here. Besides, you fly airplanes, you are hardly qualified to do my job."

Both Carson and Ronon tensed waiting to see how Sheppard would react to the not so subtle put-down from the Vegas detective. Sheppard didn't blink, "Detective; you have no idea how valuable Dr. McKay is to the security of this country. His safety and that of the other hostages, is my only concern; you can play with the bad guys all you want. I get enough of that in my job." He pulled the detective's notebook and pen from his hand and scribbled some numbers on the pad. "This is Dr. McKay's cell phone number, see if you can get a GPS lock, the other number is mine. I expect to be updated constantly."

Sheppard abruptly turned and walked away, catching Ronon and Carson off guard. Ronon reacted faster than Carson, who was still standing next to Marshall. He heard Marshall mutter under his breath, "Who the fuck does that asshole think he is?"

Carson answered, "That is Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you don't want to mess with him, laddie; consider yourself warned." He hurried to catch up with his friends, leaving the detective glaring at them as they walked away.

Sheppard was impatiently punching the elevator call-button when Ronon, then Carson, caught up with him. Carson had seen the colonel extremely angry, but there was intensity to his demeanor that he hadn't witnessed before.

"John, I…this is my fault. I was having a drink with a couple of ladies, and Rodney wanted me to go with him to the cashiers; I refused. Maybe if I had…" He paused as Sheppard looked at him, his hand raised for Carson to stop.

"No, this is not your fault; if you had gone with Rodney, you could both be hostages or worse. If anyone's at fault here, it's me for thinking we could possibly have a good time without finding trouble."

The elevator arrived and they rode to their floor in silence. Sheppard slipped his keycard from his inside jacket pocket and entered his suite. He hurried into the bedroom, where he pulled the gun locker from his closet.

As he handed Ronon a 9-mil, he said, "Don't say it, Chewie; next time, you bring your blaster." He then handed Carson a 9-mil, grabbed his weapon, and Rodney's from the locker, and slipped them both in his belt. He tucked a couple of extra clips in his jacket pockets, putting the rest into a satchel he handed to Ronon.

"Sheppard, what's the plan?" Ronon asked, as he slung the satchel across his chest.

"First, we have to get clearance to be involved in the search for Rodney. I need to call in a favor." He sat down on the couch, and punched in a number. "This is Colonel John Sheppard, authorization 3258772107. I need a secure line." He waited for a few seconds, then punched in another number, speaking almost immediately, "This is Colonel Sheppard, I need to speak to General Landry."

Fifteen minutes later, after Sheppard received a return call from the general, they headed downstairs. Detective's Marshall and Burton were talking to witnesses outside of the cashiers' window. Inside, a forensics team was combing thought the room for clues. Sheppard knew that Marshall was aware he was there, but wouldn't acknowledge him.

Ronon was impatient, "Sheppard, we just going to wait here?" Sheppard only nodded in reply, continuing to stare at Marshall.

When Marshall's phone rang, Carson noted a slight smile cross Sheppard's face. He looked at the detective who was now openly staring at Sheppard, and he didn't look happy. Marshall finished his call, and walked toward them.

"The chief of police just received a call from the Secretary of Defense, who informed him that you are to be included in this investigation. In fact, the secretary suggested that you run this investigation. At least, the chief of police saw fit to keep that from happening. I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you want to be involved, you're involved. But you better remember that this is my case, and I make the decisions."

Sheppard's voice was low, raspy, "Detective; I am not your enemy. I only want my friend and colleague, and the other hostages back safely."

Marshall glared into Sheppard's eyes for a few seconds, then said, "I'm headed to Caesar's security office to look at the cameras. You can come if you want." He turned, briskly walking away.

Sheppard moved to follow the detective, but Ronon stopped him, "You gonna let him call the shots on this?"

Sheppard replied somberly, "No; we find Rodney."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodney McKay was lying on the floorboard of a stretch limousine that he was unceremoniously thrown into after being hustled out of the hotel. His arms were tied behind his back and his feet bound; a piece of duct tape stretched across his mouth. He heard whimpering, first wondering if he was making the sound. Hearing the whimper again, he realized it was coming from a woman, who was similarly tied, but was lying on a seat. He rolled around as best he could, to see another woman lying on the opposite seat. In the dim light filtering through the darkened windows, he could tell the second woman's eyes were wide, filled with fear.

The limo had stopped approximately five minutes before. He heard the creaking of car doors opening, then felt them slam shut. As he attempted to slow his breathing, he wondered if they had been abandoned, and whether they would be found. He bounced his head against the floor in frustration and anger at himself. If he had listened to Carson, and joined the doctor for a drink, he wouldn't be here.

He sighed deeply, wondering why the hell he couldn't have taken time to relax. Did he really say 'what would he possibly have in common with a high school teacher' in front of her? He was thankful Sheppard hadn't heard that, he would have chewed his ass off for being so rude. Not that Carson would ever allow him to forget it; the Scot would probably have a few choice words for him.

His thoughts were racing, when the car door opened, startling him. Huge hands reached for him and dragged him from the limo, depositing him on his stomach onto a hard, rough surface. Minutes later, the two women were lying beside him. Blindfolds were placed across their eyes before they were rolled over.

A high-pitched male voice shattered the silence, "What the fuck are we going to do with them, Jessie? We just fucking kidnapped three people."

"Moron, don't use names, I swear you are a fucking idiot. We may need these people; we didn't exactly escape the casino without being noticed. The cops found out quicker than we thought they would." This man's accent placed him from the Boston area.

A female voice joined the conversation, seething with anger, "If you had done what I told you, you wouldn't have gotten in this situation. I was watching for people to come up to the windows, but you weren't paying attention. Little Dana here got your blood boiling, and you were fixated on her. That idiot saw your gun, and that why we had to grab him. Because of you stupidly talking to me about him, we had to take the girls, and blew our plans of having the police think I was the only hostage. Honestly, I ought to kill you right here."

Boston said, "Listen, bitch, we got the money, it's being loaded in the van. We're keeping these three as bargaining chips. If we make it until the plane arrives without being found, we'll dump them on the side of the road."

"We just kidnapped three people, you fucking idiot, killing 'em won't make a difference. Where's B?" she asked, not wanting to say his full name.

"He's on his way to the ranch. He dumped his car and picked up the SUV."

"Okay, get changed and get that truck loaded. I'm taking the car, and heading for the ranch," the woman said. Rodney heard the sound of footsteps fading away.

Boston spoke again, "Idiot, check his pockets; if you find a cell phone, throw it away."

Rough hands searched his pockets, finding his cell phone; the sound of plastic hitting the floor told Rodney the phone had been tossed away. Idiot also found the cache of chips in his jacket pocket. Rodney heard him laughed, then he whispered, "Nice little haul here, I think I'll keep them for the next time I'm in Vegas."

About fifteen minutes passed before the hostages were thrown into a vehicle of some sort. Something lumpy was under Rodney's back; he suspected it might be stacks of money. Right before the doors slammed shut, he heard Boston say, "We'll drive to the ranch and lie low there for a couple of days. Once things have died down, we fly to Mexico."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the buzzer sounded and the doors into Caesars' main surveillance center opened for them to enter, Sheppard immediately thought of the banks of monitors in the main science lab on Atlantis. The darkened room covered with monitors was about the same size as the Atlantis lab, but the screens here displayed visuals from every corner of the hotel.

Detective Burton, who introduced Dane Rogers, Caesars' head of security to Sheppard, spoke, "Rogers just told me that one of his security monitor techs, Bill Penn, has disappeared. Penn told the tech next to him he was feeling sick and ran toward the corridor leading to the bathroom. There is also a staircase in that direction; we are assuming he fled the hotel. His assignment tonight was to monitor the screens from the cashiers' cage."

"So, you think he was in on it?" Detective Marshall asked.

Rogers answered, "We think so; from what we've put together here, there were only three cashiers on duty when the man was taken from the lobby. That is considerably fewer than the number of cashiers, who should be on duty. The four men, who were in there, were very careful to keep their heads down and not appear on any of the several cameras in the room. They are wearing cashier uniforms, but no one recognized them from the limited view we had. Besides, they all disappeared at the time the hostages were taken."

Sheppard asked, "Who could arrange for only three cashiers to be on duty?"

Marshall threw Sheppard an angry glare but kept quiet as Rogers answered, "The supervisor on duty handles the schedule, which shows a full crew. We found three of them on break together, unusual because only two are allowed to be on break at the same time. The others are not in the hotel; we've begun contacting them. We spoke to one so far, he's on the schedule but said the supervisor game him the night off."

Marshall asked quickly, "Supervisor's name?"

Burton answered, "I have that info already, Hank. The head cashier's name is Marcella Ponci, 36; she's been with Caesar's for five years, night supervisor for seven months. I called dispatch to send officers to her address; no call back yet."

Sheppard spoke again, "You have Dr. McKay's abduction on tape?" Rogers nodded and directed them to a large monitor on the right side of the room, and motioned for the tech to start the video.

They watched as four men, dressed as cashiers entered through the secure door at the rear of the cashier's area. Three men immediately approached the three cashiers who were on duty; the three women straightened a bit as the men spoke to them, but their expressions didn't change. The fourth man pulled several bags from a bin that was stored in a cabinet and distributed the bags. Hastily, they proceeded to fill the bags with the money from the three open drawers, and the drawers in the closed cashiers' windows.

Marshall asked, "Which one is Ponci?" Rogers pointed out the strawberry blond sitting in the far right window.

Once they emptied the drawers, one of them men pulled a gun from under his shirt. Rogers said, "This is a second or two before the time stamp on the other camera when the hostage walked up to the window." He spoke to the tech, "Rack up camera 15."

The view from camera 15 was from outside the cashiers' cage, showing the lobby area directly in front of the cashiers' windows. They could see the three women sitting at the cash windows and the four men moving around behind them. About ten seconds into the video, Rodney McKay walked into the picture, approaching the first window where Ponci was sitting. McKay reacted when he apparently spotted the gun, Ponci left the window, and a man appeared behind McKay. The man moved extremely close to McKay, and the two men disappeared to the left and out of range of that camera. Another view of McKay walking to the window followed, and from that vantage point, they could see the gun pressed against McKay's back. The gunman pressed the keypad next to the door leading to the back areas of the hotel, and the two men disappeared through the door. The third tape showed one man talking to Marcella. They appeared to be arguing, while the other two cashiers were grabbed and taken out the back. The next tape was a view of the VIP entrance next along Flamingo Road. There were three limousines in view, parked along the curb. The last was a black stretch limo with the lights on. Several people entered the view, the four men who were holding on to two of the female cashiers, one lone female, and McKay and the gunman. They all got in and the limo sped away.

Ronon was leaning against the outer edge of the horseshoe bank of monitors, and Sheppard heard him say something in Czech, under his breath. Radek Zelenka had jokingly taught Ronon to cuss in Czech late one night in the mess. Sheppard sighed; he wished Ronon didn't need that now. He glanced at Beckett, who he found staring at him.

"Carson, you okay?"

"No, colonel, I am not; we have to find him."

"Don't worry; he's alive, and we are going to find him."

Sheppard reached in the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small card, "Carson, here; go to the valet stand and have the car brought down, tell the valet it's an emergency and you need the car immediately. Stay with it…if security gives you any trouble, tell them Mr. Rogers said it was okay for you to stay there while you're waiting. I'm going to see if our crack police detective has any results from the GPS search on Rodney's phone."

Carson took off, and Sheppard walked toward Marshall, dampening his anger. He knew that the detective was extremely angry with him, but he frankly didn't care. However, Landry had made it clear that he was to cooperate with the police; so for now, he'd cooperate, unless they got in the way of rescuing Rodney.

"Marshall, how's that GPS search going?"

Burton reacted nervously, which concerned Sheppard that Marshall hadn't followed up on the phone number. He took another step closer to the detective, "Marshall; I gave you McKay's number nearly forty-five minutes ago, what's the result?"

Marshall glared at him, and pulled out his phone, making a call, "Jack, anything yet on that phone number I gave you? I'll wait." He waited for few minutes before he got an answer then hung up. "Nothing yet, and colonel, I'm not vindictive. I called that number in; the phone is apparently not working."

"Crap, Rodney probably turned it off when he was playing blackjack." Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "Any word on the road blocks?"

Marshall shook his head, "Nothing; HP has cars on the major ramps on all the freeways, LVPD is covering all the major streets but hell, looking for a limo that looks like every other limo on a holiday weekend, without a license plate number, it's impossible. Even if we get good surveillance from the traffic cams as they left the hotel, we'll probably lose them in traffic when we switch between cameras."

"Luck seems to be something we're out of at this point."

"I was about to head over to Marcella Ponci's condo to see if we can find anything useful." Marshall didn't appear that he wanted to say the next words, but he did, "You're welcome to come along."

Sheppard nodded and he and Ronon followed the detectives out of the security department. They were in the casino heading for the front door, when Marshall's phone rang. He listened, then turned to Sheppard. "McKay's phone just turned on and it's active. He's at a warehouse about five miles out of town."

The group hurried out of the hotel. Sheppard spotted the Rover and headed toward it. Marshall called back to him, "You can come with us."

Sheppard replied as Beckett slipped out of the driver's seat and got in the back, "I can drive as well as fly; we'll follow you."

They treaded their way through the heavy Vegas traffic, assisted by police cruisers with lights and sirens going. Eventually, they started going through an industrial area and then through a residential area and into open terrain with only a scattering of houses and businesses along the road. The convoy kicked up speed and within a few minutes, the cruisers turned off their sirens and lights. They journeyed another half-mile, a large structure outlined in the moonlight coming into view.

A rusty sign that said 'Howard's Trucking' hung crookedly over a doorway that had office painted on the glass panes that formed the top of the door. A couple of bicycles were lying on the ground next to the office door. Double sets of large garage doors filled the near side of the building.

Marshall sent two police officers, to recon the building. They returned within a few minutes; they found a locked rear door, and a window into a very large garage. The officers reported a lone vehicle inside, a black limousine.

As Marshall laid out the assault plan, Sheppard and Ronon both pulled their weapons. Marshall stopped in mid-sentence, glaring at Sheppard, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"We're going in with you."

"No, no you're not."

Sheppard bit his lower lip before he spoke, quelling his anger once more, "Marshall, don't make me have the Secretary of Defense call your boss again. We're going in with you."

Marshall was pissed, but he just shook his head, "Your funeral, but don't you dare get any of my men hurt." He turned away, ordering his men into place.

Sheppard looked at Carson, who also had his weapon in his hand, "You stay out here, Carson."

"No, laddie; he's my friend, too."

Sheppard dropped his head, sighing deeply. He wasn't going to convince Carson to stay, and he didn't want to order him, "Just stay behind Ronon." Carson nodded and they got in position to enter the building.

The front door was unlocked; Marshall and Burton entered first with Sheppard, then Ronon, followed by Beckett. There was a closed door across the room, which led to a corridor that spilled into a large garage. The light was coming from there.

The men slipped up the passageway; Marshall stopped at the entrance to the garage, Sheppard behind him. Marshall whispered, "The limo's parked close to the front side of the building." Over his radio, he told the two police officers at the rear door to go on his mark, told the other two to wait until they opened the garage doors. He whispered, "Now," and they burst into the large open garage.

The limo sat near the front and was the only vehicle in the garage. Checking the front seat, which was empty, they moved cautiously toward the passenger door. Once everyone was in place, Burton reached for the door handle and flung open the passenger door. Inside, two very frightened boys around twelve, screamed as four weapons were aimed at them. Hastily, Marshall yelled for everyone to stand down, and motioned for the boys to exit.

Shakily, the boys climbed out of the limo, and Carson immediately began to attempt to calm them down. One of the boys was holding a cell phone, and Carson asked to see it. He turned it over to Sheppard; the phone was working, but the case was cracked along one corner.

"McKay's," Sheppard said, and passed it to Marshall, who had donned a pair of gloves. He then turned to the boys, "What are your names?"

The shorter of the two boys said, "I'm Pedro; he's Tim."

"Pedro, where did you find the phone?" The boy looked past Sheppard and pointed to a large metal box sitting near the far wall. Marshall headed that way.

Carson smiled at the boys, who were trembling, "Now calm down, you lads are not in any trouble. What are ya doing out at this time of the morning?"

The boys looked at each other, then Tim answered, "We're not supposed to be out; our parents' think we're staying at each other's house. We thought it would be fun to stay out all night."

Sheppard smiled, "Yeah, I've done that before; when I was about your age. Tell me, did you see anything else, did you see anyone around here, any other cars, people?"

"We were down the road looking in the window of the roadhouse, just to see what was going on inside. A big black limo went past us really fast and looked like it turned in here. We waited a while, there looked like there was going to be fight at the roadhouse. We wanted to see it, but it didn't happen."

Pedro jumped in, "So we decided to come down here and see what the limo was doing, this place has been empty for a long time. The garage doors were coming down as we got here."

"Did you see any vehicles?"

"A really cool sports car passed us before we got here, and…" Tim interrupted Pedro.

"It was a Ferrari; red, I think. We checked the door; it was open, so we snuck inside. We heard voices but we got scared 'cause one of the men sounded mean. Then the garage doors went up and what sounded like a truck left, then we heard the doors closed."

"Yeah," Pedro said, "that's when we came in here and saw the limo. Tim opened the car doors and I found the phone. We were trying to see if we could get on the internet with it."

"Thanks boys, you did good." Sheppard smiled at them, and walked over to join Marshall.

"We need to look for a red sports car, the kids think it was a Ferrari and they said some kind of truck left here."

"Did they say which way they were going?" Burton asked.

"The sports car was headed back toward Vegas; the kids don't have any idea which way the truck went." Sheppard was standing with his hands on his hips, his fingers tapping, chewing on his lower lip. Both Carson and Ronon knew that look, the colonel was thinking. Marshall simply thought he was frustrated.

"Look, Sheppard, I know you're upset about this, but we'll get bolos out on both vehicles, including all the surrounding states. We'll find them."

"We will find them; I have an idea." He whirled around and headed back down the hallway they had entered through, Ronon and Carson on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodney McKay was a very unhappy man. He had been bouncing on top of lumpy bags, with two women rolling on top of him. At one point, when both women were on top of him, he thought, yeah, McKay; your fantasy with two women is not exactly what you thought it would be. He was pretty certain that thought was permanently out of his head. He had lost track of time, but he felt as though they'd been traveling for an eternity, but he suspected it was closer to two hours.

He was frightened, petrified to be exact, for himself and the two young women with him. The bastards who kidnapped them had nothing to lose, and if they were cornered…; he didn't want to think about that.

The van took a sharp right turn, and he was bouncing as the van quickly sped down an extremely rough road. The smaller of the two women with him, flew into the air when they hit a particularly hard bump, and hit her head on the side of the van. She moaned deeply and Rodney was angry; he felt helpless, she was injured, and he couldn't do anything to help her. They drove down the road for quite a while before the van came to a stop. The doors opened and they were pulled out of the van and dropped onto the rough ground. The only thought going through his head was the fact that Sheppard wouldn't give up until he found him. He just hoped he was alive to know when they rescued him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time, Ronon and Carson caught up with Sheppard, the colonel was reciting his authorization code; then asking for General Landry. They waited.

Sheppard heard a click on the line, and then Landry voiced boomed through the phone, "Sheppard, did you find McKay?"

"No, sir; we found his phone and where he may have been held, but we were too late. Apparently, he and the other hostages have been moved. Sir, I need a favor."

"Sheppard, am I going to hate this?"

"I hope not, sir."

"What…just tell me."

"Sir, I need some assistance from whatever ship is closest to us right now."

Sheppard gritted his teeth as Landry said, "Ship, one of our ships?"

"Yes, sir; it's the only way to find McKay quickly, and general, there are two innocent women with him. Ship's sensors can pick up Rodney's transponder, and we can go rescue him."

"Well, at least you didn't ask me to have them pluck him out of wherever he is, because that I won't do; national security…the President would have my hide."

"No, sir; we'll get him, I just need to know where he is."

"Hang on, Sheppard."

Sheppard was pacing, waiting for Landry to come back on the line. He glanced at Carson and Ronon, who were leaning against the Rover, and shrugged. His patience was near a breaking point by the time Landry came back on the line.

"Sheppard, the Daedalus is currently on a check-out run after engine repairs, but they are still in the solar system. Caldwell says he'll be over Nevada in approximately one hour and twenty-seven minutes. When he's in synchronous orbit above you, I'll have him patched into your phone."

"General, thank you."

"Don't thank me, colonel; find McKay, and, for goodness sakes, try to stay out of trouble for the rest of your leave, will you?"

"Yes, sir," Sheppard replied. He slipped the phone in his jacket pocket, and joined Ronon and Carson.

"Caldwell will be here in about an hour and a half; we'll know where Rodney is then. Come on; let's tell Marshall, what we can tell him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodney heard heavy footsteps approaching. He was lying on the ground exactly where they left him when dumped from the stopped vehicle. His heart was racing; he was afraid that he'd been abandoned on the side of the road, but to his relief, the vehicle never started up again. As the footsteps got closer, he sensed there was more than one person coming toward him.

Boston's gruff voice shattered the silence, "Cut those ropes on his legs, and get his ass up; I'm tired of carrying him. Get him and the girls into the house, take 'em to that back room."

Hands grabbed Rodney's legs, cut the ropes, and pulled him to his feet. He was wobbly, his legs cramping from being bound for a couple of hours, but he managed to stand. He was shoved from behind, and told to move. He stumbled as he attempted to walk, but someone caught him before he hit the ground.

"Geez, walk you son of a bitch; I'm not carrying your sorry ass anymore." The voice belonged to Idiot.

Rodney was led into a building, stumbling over the threshold, which elicited a blow to his back from his guide, who yelled, "Watch where you're going."

All Rodney could think was what a moron Idiot was, the blindfold he was wearing made it a tad difficult for him to see where he was going.

Idiot dragged Rodney down what he assumed must be a hallway, since he bounced into close walls on each side more than once, then Idiot shoved him through a doorway. He gingerly walked into the room, but walked into something, banging up his shins. Grunting he tried to take a step back, but he bumped into someone, who shoved him. Rodney fell onto a soft surface but rolled across hit hitting his head against a wall. The last thing he remembered was Idiot yelling, "I swear; this stupid son-of-a-bitch is an idiot."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marshall ordered a forensics' unit to check out the garage, and they had returned to the Las Vegas Police Station. When they walked in, the desk sergeant, who was on duty the night Rodney and Carson had been detained, greeted Sheppard with a 'welcome back.' A gesture noticed by Marshall, who cast the colonel a quizzical glance.

As they walked through the department toward Marshall's office, Beckett asked where he could get a cup of coffee. Burton offered to take him to the break room, and Sheppard motioned for Ronon to accompany Beckett.

As he settled in a chair in Marshall's office, he glanced at his watch, still forty-one minutes to go. He looked up to see Marshall staring at him.

Marshall asked, "How much longer until your people get back to you?"

"About forty minutes," Sheppard answered, not offering more to the detective. From the look on Marshall's face, he wasn't very satisfied with the explanation that Sheppard had given him, which was none.

"You going to tell me how you can pinpoint where the hostages are with enough confidence that I can send my people out to find them?" Marshall leaned back in his chair, a suspicious look on his face.

"No, I'm not; it's classified."

Marshall guessed, "Satellite? Although I don't see how a satellite could find McKay."

Sheppard just shook his head.

"You know I'm pretty pissed that I have to babysit you."

Sheppard leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs; his side was aching and he could really use some Advil but that could wait. "Nobody asked you to babysit me, just to allow me to assist in searching for Dr. McKay."

Marshall scoffed, "I've had to deal with VIP's before, after all, this is Vegas. At least, you aren't demanding warm hand towels, or water chilled to a precise temperature."

Sheppard chucked, "Not yet, anyway. Look, we are not VIP's; we just want to find our friend."

"Right, the Secretary of Defense just called to say hi. Hell, I doubt even Lady Gaga has that kind of pull."

Sheppard dropped his head, scratching just above his forehead, "Marshall; we're just Air Force personnel, trying to have a vacation.'

"What was the sergeant talking about, why did he say welcome back?"

"McKay and Beckett stopped an attempted rape a couple of night's ago; they got knocked around a bit. After they were treated at the hospital, they were brought to the station, and Ronon and I picked them up here."

"Been wreaking havoc in my town for a while, huh. I'll say this, you guys are the most unlikely looking group of military I've ever seen. I mean, what did you say McKay was, a physicist? Beckett a medical doctor, and I don't even want to speculate about the big guy. And you, you don't look like an Air Force officer. So what gives?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot, and sorry, your 'what gives' is classified."

Sheppard was rescued from anymore banter with Marshall by the arrival of Carson and Ronon. Ronon handed Sheppard a cup of coffee, while Beckett handed him Advil. Sheppard's slight grin was his only acknowledgement.

Burton rushed into the office, "Hank; the kids were close on the car, the red sports car was a Lamborghini, registered to a Jessie Gianfranco, 48. His address is the same as Marcella Ponci. He's got a rap sheet full of goodies, assault, terroristic threatening, drugs, robbery, spent some quality time in jail in Massachusetts. His parole ended about eight months ago. I've put his photo out along with hers; we're checking for known associates in the area."

The sound of a phone beeping startled them all; it was Sheppard's phone. As he reached into his pocket, he looked at his watch; it was still twenty-four minutes until the Daedalus should be overhead.

"Sheppard," he answered.

"Colonel Sheppard, Sgt. Specter, sir; hold for a secure line," Sheppard jumped up and walked into the hall.

A deep, gruff voice erupted from the phone, "Sheppard, can't do without me, can you?"

"Colonel Caldwell, you're early."

"Yeah, well, you know Landry; he's like an old mother hen. He gently suggested that I push it, and get here as soon as possible; so we pushed it."

"Have you…" Sheppard started to ask, but Caldwell interrupted.

"Yes, we've located McKay's transponder. Marks has cross-referenced the coordinates on a topography map and overlaid that with a road map. He's sending it to the SGC; they should be rerouting the map to your phone any minute. He's about two hours south of you, near the Arizona-California-Nevada border."

"Colonel…thanks…I…"

"No need to say it, just find him safe; and Sheppard, you so owe me."

"We'll find him, and yes, yes I do."

Just as Sheppard ended the call, his phone beeped and the email came through. He headed back into Marshall's office.

Beckett jumped up, "Colonel; you found Rodney?"

"Yes, he's two hours from here near a town called Laughlin."

Marshall reached for his phone, "I'll notify the Highway Patrol and the locals. Sheppard, they don't have many state boys down there, you willing wait 'til we get there?"

"If we go now, I am."

"Let's get that printed and we'll head out." He turned to Sheppard, "This time you are riding with me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A door creaked, and slowly opened, scraping across the floor. Rodney had regained consciousness, but had no concept of how much time had passed. Soft footsteps told him someone had entered the room, and a soft voice, spoke, "Madre de Dios, esto es tan mal."

Rodney heard a soft moan, and a very weak voice requesting water; shortly, from a different voice, the same request. After another moment passed, Rodney felt soft fingers gently pulling the tape from his mouth. He sucked in a huge breath, and in a raspy voice uttered, 'I'll take some of that water."

"Of course, señor let me hold your head." A small, warm hand cradled the back of his head as a glass touched against his lips. He greedily drank the cool water before she pulled the glass away, 'No, no…not too much at once."

There was an edge of panic in Rodney's rushed voice, as he asked, "Are the women okay, one of them hit her head earlier. Where the hell are we, and who are you?"

The woman laughed softly, "You have many questions, señor, but you must be quiet or they will hear you. The señoritas are uninjured. I do not believe that Señor Jessie will like that I have come in here. But I knew you must be thirsty and uncomfortable."

Rodney demanded, "You didn't answer me, who are you and where are we?"

"I am Milagros; my husband, Esteban and I live here, we take care of this ranch for Señor Jessie. Now, please do not speak, I am going to lightly place the tape back across your mouth, but I will give you a bit more water first." She held the glass up against his lips.

Rodney drank a bit more water, then asked, "Please, can you loosen these ropes on my wrists; it hurts.

"Oh, señor, no, no puedo, no me pides, I cannot."

"Please, it hurts," his arms actually didn't hurt; they were too numb to hurt, but he wanted his hands loose. How else could he escape?

Rodney heard Milagros take a deep throaty breath, "Okay, señor; I will loosen your bindings."

She pushed him over on his side, and worked for several minutes until she had loosened the ropes. As the blood rushed back into his hands, he felt as if his fingers were on fire. As she began to turn him onto his back again, he pulled as hard as he could on the ropes, further loosening them.

"Hey, if you aren't going to let me go, could you leave me on my left side? And could you loosen the girls' bindings?"

"Madre de Dios, you are asking so much. I do not know why Señor Jessie brought you here. I swear to you, Esteban and I have done nothing wrong. I'm afraid for what is happening, but I will loosen the senoritas ropes, as well."

"Thanks, Milagros"

Rodney waited until Milagros left. As soon as the door shut softly, he rubbed his face against the bed cover until he rubbed the tape away from his mouth. "Ladies, can you hear me?" Two gargled 'uh-huh' replied, and he instructed, "See if you can rub the tape off of your mouth, and work on loosening the ropes around your hands. And don't worry, help is coming." He was positive Sheppard was on the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A convoy of Vegas police cars, including a CRT van, and several Nevada Highway Patrol cars, sped down US 95 toward the southern tip of Nevada, where California and Arizona meet. Sheppard, Ronon, and Beckett were riding with Marshall, Burton in the SUV behind them.

They were less than thirty miles from the location where Rodney was being held. Sheppard was slouched in the front seat; he appeared so relaxed that he almost looked as if he was being held upright by the seat belt. Inside however, he was anything but relaxed. They were walking into a situation where they didn't know the terrain, or how many people were there and how armed they were, or where the hostages were being held. The one thing he did know was that a group of people with the balls to rob Caesars wasn't afraid of anything.

Sheppard roused from his thoughts when Marshall's phone rang. The detective answered and listened for several minutes. When he ended the call, he looked over at Sheppard, "That was Lt. Hernandez of the HP; they're at the site. It's off the Needles Freeway in the middle of nowhere, out in the open, but the house is surrounded by an eight-foot adobe wall. Hernandez said that a Mexican couple, Estefan and Milagros Sanchez, live there as caretakers; the property is owned by Peter Tucker, a local bad boy. An aerial shot in the city manager's office showed that there's a large barn behind the house, within the compound. HP moved some local cops familiar with the terrain as close as they dared; they only have a few night vision scopes with them. I'd bet a week's pay that there are sentries posted or video cameras at that compound.

Sheppard sighed, "No way to sneak up on them, then?" Marshall shook his head.

"I could call in a helicopter, from Vegas or the HP and drop the CRT's inside, but it's too dangerous with the hostages, especially since we don’t know where they are."

Carson blurted out, "Colonel couldn't the Da…" He stopped, realizing what he had almost said, "Oh, forget I said that…sorry."

Sheppard looked around at him, "It's okay, Carson; no problem, but no detail available."

Marshall quipped, "More 'what gives' I'm not going to know about, Sheppard?"

Sheppard scoffed, then asked a question, "Marshall, when's sunrise?"

The detective answered, "Around 6:20 or so, why?"

Sheppard responded, "I have an idea."

 

 **Day Four: Sunrise**

Pale gold light spilled over the rocky hills to the east, and the increasing light exposed a desolate vista of beige-gray sand and scrub brush. A lone old faded-red pickup truck was traveling along a road that appeared to have been created by using a bulldozer to push the rocks and brush out of the way. Plumes of dust spewed from the wheels, nearly obliterating the truck.

Inside the compound, Marcella Ponci was in the kitchen yelling at Milagros, wanting coffee; Jessie Gianfranco had just come in from tending to the horses that he kept at the ranch. As he walked up to Marcella and grabbed her, Milagros slipped into the pantry to get coffee.

"Hey, baby; we lay low here for one more day, and then we'll have Carlos fly in and pick us up. In less than forty-eight hours, we'll be on the beach in Mexico."

"You'd better hope it all plays out like that, or I swear I'll kill you for screwing up."

Jessie's anger flared and his fingers dug into her arms, "Listen, bitch; I wasn't the one who took her eyes off her job, you should've warned us that idiot was approaching."

Marcella jerked her arms loose, spun around, slapping him, "You, pig!" You were too interested in the young chick to pay attention to what you were doing."

He grabbed her again, "And you were too jealous to pay attention to what you were supposed to do. This is your fault, but don't worry your pretty little head; I'm gonna clean up your mess. No one will ever find the bodies; we'll get rid of our little trio of hostages, and the Mexican help. Pete's coming this afternoon to get the horses and take em to the hacienda, señorita. There won't be any loose ends."

She stared at him, and angrily muttered, "You better make sure, or I'll tie up your loose end, Jessie. I'm gonna get dressed. Where the hell did that Mexican whore go? She'd better have coffee ready when I get back or she'll be the first loose end to go."

Milagros stood behind the pantry door, breathing hard, her chest heaving in fear. "Dios mio," she whispered, "they are going to kill us." She waited until Jessie and Marcella left the kitchen, then emerging from the pantry, she quickly made coffee, and placed cups and sweet rolls on the table. She stood in the kitchen for a moment thinking out loud, "That will keep them from looking for me for a while. I must find Esteban; we have to get those people loose and get away." She fled out the back door.

Ten minutes later, Marcella entered the kitchen, when she didn't see Milagros, she yelled, "Hey, you Mexican bitch, where's my coffee?" Glancing around the room, she spotted the coffee pot and rolls. "Well, you'll live a little longer, since there's coffee."

Wandering to the front room, coffee in hand, munching on a roll, Marcella sat down on the couch. Curiously, she watched as Bill Penn and two men were placing thin packets of money into heavy waxed paper, and then gluing the bundles to fabric stretched out on the floor.

"What the fuck are they doing?"

"Ah, my pretty bitch," Jessie grinned, "when the plane gets here, we are going to redecorate. You are looking at the new wall covering. If by some slim chance we get boarded, they'll never suspect."

She smiled, "You are so smart, even if you are an idiot."

"Jessie, " Idiot ran into the room, yelling, "Jessie, there's a truck coming."

Jessie turned to Penn, "Keep working, unless I call for you." Drawing a Glock pistol from his waistband, he looked at Marcella, "Don't just stand there, bitch, get your gun and come with me." He followed Idiot out the door.

Outside the compound walls, the red pickup came to a halt. Two men exited the truck; from the passenger's side, a tall man with dreadlocks tied back in a bandana, wearing a faded green t-shirt, and jeans. From the driver's side, the other man was wearing a black cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a black shirt and jeans. Sheppard and Ronon; they approached the large solid wooden gate and Ronon pounded on the structure.

A voice called out, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Sheppard answered, "Hey, man, we're here to deliver hay for the horses; Peter Tucker ordered it." He pointed to the pickup bed, which was loaded with bales of hay.

Inside the gate, Idiot looked at Jessie, "You think they are on the up and up?"

Jessie thought for a moment, "Yeah, Pete probably ordered hay for the horse van. He's going to Needles to pick one up this afternoon; let 'em in; but keep an eye on them. And keep your guns out of site; that got us into trouble before."

As Idiot yelled that they were opening the gate, Jessie returned to the house. Outside the gate, Sheppard got into the truck and drove slowly through the opening, while Ronon walked beside the truck. Following Idiot, Sheppard drove around the large house, and pulled through the open door of the large barn. He parked and got out, joining Ronon at the truck's rear. Only two of Jessie's men had accompanied them into the barn, watching as Sheppard dropped the truck's tailgate. With a glance at Ronon, Sheppard reached for the nearest bale of hay, Ronon the one next to it, lifting the bales, they both swung at the same time, hitting the two men, dropping them to the barn floor. As they finished the job by knocking both men out, six CRT's burst out from underneath the piled hay.

One of the CRT's approached Sheppard, "Colonel, I love it when a plan comes together." The CRT, named Castillo, turned to the others, "Jeffries, Parsons, secure these two, then recon the perimeter; the rest of you with me. I've signaled that we're in, so assistance is coming. Colonel, lead the way."

From the long back wing of the house, Milagros and Estefan had just entered the room where Rodney and the women were held. They untied Rodney first, Milagros whispered, "Please be quiet, they are going to kill all of us, Estefan and me, too. We must get away." She began to help Estefan untie the women.

"Señor Rodney, you almost had your ropes untied; you are very clever."

"Well, not clever enough, because I didn't get them completely done. How do you know they are going to kill all of us?"

"I heard Jessie tell that vile woman, Marcella, dios mio, that he would tie up 'loose ends' and kill us."

They helped the two women to their feet and Estefan put his finger to his lips, "Be quiet; I will check the hall and see if the way is clear." A whispered, "Ten cuidado," from his wife, and Estefan slipped through the door.

Sheppard, Ronon, and the CRT's made it to the back of the house without encountering any more of Jessie's men. The CRT commander motioned for two of his men to deploy around the sides of the building, then whispered to Sheppard, "After you."

They entered through the kitchen and proceeded down the hall toward the front. Two of the CRT's peeled off to check the side rooms, while the rest headed toward the sound of voices.

Marcella was complaining, "Are you sure that Pete ordered that stuff; it's not like Pete not to tell you everything."

"We've all be a little busy here; he probably forgot. You know Pete; he's probably sobering up somewhere right now. He tends to…"

The CRT commander yelled, "Police, put your hands up."

Jessie pulled Marcella in front of him, drawing his weapon. Penn dropped his gun on the floor, but the other two drew their weapons and began firing. Ronon took the first one out, the commander the other. Jessie pushed Marcella into Sheppard and jumped through the window; he rolled on the ground, then jumped up heading toward the Lamborghini, parked next to the side of the house.

Marcella was screaming, "Jessie, you fucking bastard, you used me as shield. I hope you fucking die!"

Sheppard pushed her toward the commander and ran out the front door toward the sports car. "Jessie, stop, it's over."

Jessie was nearly at the car, "No way, I'm getting out of here." He started to move toward the car when a body came running from the corner of the house and tackled him…Rodney.

"McKay," Sheppard raced toward the two men, but Jessie managed to get loose. Seeing the hostages, who had been led out of a window by Estefan, he sprinted toward them and grabbed Milagros. When Estefan ran toward them to rescue his wife, Jessie fired, dropping the man in his tracks. Milagros screamed, but Jessie jerked her around, holding a gun to her head.

"You let me go or I will kill her."

Sheppard, hearing the sound of several vehicles entering the compound, said, "Give it up, Jessie; you aren't getting away."

"Watch me," He dragged Milagros toward the car. He reached out to open the car door, glancing down for a second. Rodney, who had gotten to his feet, took advantage of Jessie's distraction and rushed him once again. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, he let go of Milagros and fired toward Rodney, the bullet tore through Rodney's arm.

Sheppard yelled, "Drop the gun." Jessie whirled the gun toward Sheppard and the colonel fired. Sheppard's bullet struck Jessie in the forehead, and he fell, but not before his weapon fired once more.

Rodney got up, his left arm bleeding profusely, rivulets of blood already dripping from his fingertips, and helped Milagros from the ground. She murmured gracias to him before she ran to her husband. McKay turned toward Sheppard and saw his friend standing, but instinctively, he knew something was very wrong.

Rodney began running toward Sheppard, who was swaying. Ronon reached him first and caught the colonel as he began to fall. He was laying Sheppard on the ground as Rodney ran up, "Sheppard…John, hey buddy, it's over; you got the bad guy…John…"

Ronon pulled his hand from beneath the unconscious Sheppard's back. His large hand was covered in a pool blood; he looked at Rodney, "It's bad, McKay."

Rodney yelled at the top of his lungs, "Beckett!'

 

 **Day Four: Nighttime**

Rodney McKay was asleep; he had been back in his room in the surgical step-down unit for about four hours since the surgery to repair the damage from Jessie's gun. Ronon was sprawled in a chair in the corner, Detective Marshall walked in and at first, wasn't certain if Ronon was awake.

"Ronon," he said quietly, and when Ronon turned his head, he continued, "Any word on Colonel Sheppard yet?"

Ronon took a breath, "No. Beckett came out about an hour ago; said the surgery was going as well as they could expect." His tone told Marshall that Ronon wasn't pleased with him.

"Look, I know I dismissed you guys as a nuisance; I'm sorry, I was wrong."

"Yeah, I get that."

"You know, Dr. Beckett told me right after we met something to the effect of "That's Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you don't want to mess with him, laddie", then he told me to consider myself warned."

Ronon stared at the leather cuff, trimmed with thin braiding that he was wearing on his wrist. It was the cuff he bought Sheppard when they were at the ghost town; Sheppard wore it yesterday. One of the flight nurses took it off him before inserting an IV in his arm, absently handing the cuff to Ronon. He had worn the cuff since; he'd give it back to Sheppard when he walked out of the hospital. "Beckett was right; Sheppard is the finest man I've ever known, and the best soldier."

"Well, I get that, too. Mind if I stay for a while?"

Ronon nodded and the two men sat in silence, while Rodney slept.

About forty-minutes later, General Hank Landry walked through the door. Ronon jumped to his feet, "General."

Landry introduced himself to Marshall, then walked over to Rodney's bed, "I just spoke to his doctor at the nurses' station. She tells me that the bullet was a through and through but did some tissue damage, and that's what the surgery was for, to repair that damage. She assured me the surgery was successful, he's gonna be fine." He turned around to look at the two men, "However, I understand that Sheppard's in bad shape."

Ronon got up and looked out of the window, turning his back on Landry and Marshall. Marshall answered the general. "Sheppard suffered a very serious gunshot wound. I'd insisted that they both wear vests before they went in, even though I begged him to let CRT do the assault alone. Sheppard wouldn't hear of it, but agreed to the vest. Damn fucking luck, when he shot Jessie Gianfranco, the bastard fell and I guess a muscle contraction caused Jessie to pull the trigger as he fell. The trajectory of the bullet began fairly low and the bullet slid underneath the vest Sheppard was wearing, striking him in the lower left side, and traveling upward. He lost a considerable amount of blood before Beckett got the bleeding stopped, at least the external bleeding." Marshall paused before continuing, looking over at McKay.

"McKay was bleeding badly from his own wound and wouldn't let anyone touch him. He only wanted Beckett to treat Sheppard. Ronon finally dragged him away and a CRT, who is also a medic, took care of him along with Estefan Sanchez, who was shot as well.

"The caretaker," Landry inserted.

Marshall looked at Landry, "How do you know that, I only filed my preliminary report about two hours ago? Oh, never mind, probably one of those 'what gives'," he continued despite Landry's confused look. "After Beckett got Sheppard's bleeding stopped, he left Ronon to hold pressure on the wound, while he checked on Sanchez. Told me he needed a helicopter immediately and within fifteen minutes, we had two med-evacs out of Needles. Dr. Beckett insisted we go to the best, nearest trauma center, so the med-evacs' brought them here to the University Medical Center. Vegas is the only city in Nevada with a trauma center."

"I understand that the Sanchez's had nothing to do with the robbery or the kidnapping. They actually freed the hostages, correct?"

"Yeah, according to Dr. McKay, they were innocent in all of this and wouldn't allow anything to happen to the hostages. Before he went into surgery, McKay informed the hospital that he'd pay all of Sanchez's medical bills. Good man."

"Yes, detective, they are all good men."

"Yes, we are," uttered by a weak voice, from the bed.

"Good men, detective, I didn't say at least one of them is not a bit egotistical."

"Funny, general, " McKay said weakly. "Sheppard, how is he?"

"Still in surgery, doctor, he's holding his own. I brought Walter with me, McKay, can I have him contact your sister?"

"No, no…d-don't call Jeannie; I'm fine and it would just scare her about S-Sheppard. I'll call her after…after we hear Sheppard's going to b-be okay."

"Well, Walter's going to call Sheppard's brother, as soon as he's out of surgery; might as well wait until we know the status then."

"No, don't c-call Dave; Sheppard wouldn't want that. Besides, Dave's out of the country for a couple of months; think that's another reason why J-John wanted to take this trip now." McKay took a breath, "He didn't have to deal with deciding on seeing his brother when he took leave."

Landry looked displeased, "We need to call someone in his family."

Ronon answered tersely, "We're his family." With that statement, Landry wisely let the matter drop.

Rodney asked for water and while Ronon was getting it for him, a nurse came in to check McKay's vitals. Marshall and Landry stepped out in the hallway to get out of the way.

"Pretty special group of men you have here, general. They are amazingly loyal to each other and seem to treat Sheppard as a hero."

"You don't even know, Marshall. What was it Ralph Waldo Emerson said, _"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." Sheppard seems to think five minutes is too short."_

Marshall was about to reply when he noticed Dr. Beckett walking down the corridor toward them. "Here comes Beckett."

The Scottish doctor looked exhausted, having not slept the night before, other than a short nap on the way to the ranch. Now, as the sun was starting to set over Vegas, he had just come through four hours of surgery on Sheppard.

"General Landry, good to see you, sir; Detective Marshall," Beckett said as he shook the general's, then Marshall's, hand.

Ronon came into the hall, "Doc, McKay's awake; he wants to know about Sheppard."

They entered the room, and Rodney struggled to sit up. Beckett raised the head of the bed, "Rodney, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Carson; now tell us about Sheppard."

"John is out of surgery, but he remains in critical condition. The bullet didn't do major damage to any one organ, it nipped his large intestine, nicked his spleen, punctured his diaphragm, hit a lung and cracked a rib along his back, near his spine, before exiting. Thank goodness, it missed his heart, but it was only by millimeters. The good news is that all that damage was repairable, and his surgeon, Dr. Frankel was amazing. However, he lost a lot of blood, and John is still weak from the injury he sustained in Bakersfield. We are concerned about his blood pressure; we're having a hard time keeping it stabilized."

Rodney, clutching the sheet in his right hand, asked anxiously, "Carson is he going to be alright?'

Carson looked at Landry, then Ronon, and then back at Rodney, "The next twenty-four hours are critical. Rodney, the staff here is exceptional; they are supporting him with blood, fluids, and drugs, and are monitoring him closely. He's in good hands."

Ronon asked, "When can we see him?"

"He's in PACU right now, after about an hour, he'll be taken to the Surgical ICU. Once they get him settled, you can go in for a few minutes."

Rodney started to get out of bed; Ronon and Carson grabbed him, and forced him back. Carson said, "Rodney, you just underwent surgery; you are not getting up until your doctor says you can get up. I promise I will keep you up to date on John's condition. Ronon, keep him here; I'm going to go check on John. I'll be back."

Landry, with Marshall behind, followed Beckett into the hallway, "Doctor, before you go, I have a question. You mentioned that Sheppard was covering from another injury; he sustained in Bakersfield. Would you care to elaborate?"

Beckett looked a bit sheepish, but he explained the incident with the bikers and in the roadhouse to the general. Then he excused himself to return to Sheppard. Landry stood in the center of the bright hospital corridor watching the doctor walk away.

Marshall remarked, "General, I believe Colonel Sheppard has extended his time as a hero considerably passed five minutes."

Landry frowned, "Yeah, the dang fool. Come on, Marshall, let me buy you a cup of coffee; it's gonna be a long night."

About two and half hours later, a nurse entered Rodney's room and whispered to Ronon that Dr. Beckett said he could see Sheppard. The nurse left, and Ronon rose quietly so he would not wake McKay. He almost made it to the door before Rodney spoke.

"Ronon, you are not going without me; don't even think about it. Help me get out of bed."

"Little man, Beckett said for you to stay here. I'll be right back with news."

"No, I'm going." Rodney was attempting to get out of bed and nearly fell when he caught his IV on the corner of the bed. Ronon rushed over just in time, grabbing Rodney's torso and keeping him on the bed.

"McKay, for once, could you listen; you need to stay here."

McKay looked at Ronon, "No; he risked his life to save me and those women. All of you did; I have to see him, and you have to let me. What happens if he doesn't make it, Ronon? I have to see him to thank him, again, for saving my life, even if he can't hear me."

Ronon stared at him, then spoke, "Wait here; I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Rodney yelled as Ronon walked into the hallway.

"To get you a wheelchair," was the reply that wafted through the doorway.

Beckett and Landry were standing next to Sheppard's bed in the SICU, when Ronon rolled Rodney into the room. He shook his head, but didn't say anything as Ronon shrugged.

Several monitors surrounded Sheppard's bed. There were at least four IV's bags, including a unit of whole blood, hanging from suspended hooks above the head of the bed. He was pale, his skin translucent, like opaque glass; a ventilator was breathing for him.

"Come on over," Beckett said.

"Carson," fear was evident in Rodney's voice.

"Not a lot of change, we had a little crisis a while ago when his blood pressure dropped to a very dangerous level that kept us from moving him as soon we had hoped. However, his pressure's is up, and when he's had a chance to rest, he'll hopefully be more stable."

"Why the vent, can't he breathe on his own?"

"Rodney, his left lung was damaged and had to be re-inflated. Dr. Frankel wants to keep him on the vent until his pressure increases, then we'll wean him off."

They had stood at Sheppard's bedside for several minutes, when Landry spoke, Gentlemen; I think it might be time for you all to get some rest." Rodney, Ronon, and Beckett stared at the general, who continued, "or not."

"Come on, lads, the nurses have things they need to do; let's leave John to their tender mercies. We'll go to the lounge and have some coffee."

"I'll be there in a second; Ronon take the chair, I can walk." Rodney rose from the wheelchair and stood by Sheppard's bed.

"Listen, you crazy-haired, fly-boy, don't you go dying on us; we need you. The awful thing is that the whole time I was being held, I knew you were doing everything you could to find us. I told the women with me, not to worry; help's on the way. But, damn it, why the hell did you have to go and get hurt? Son of a bitch, it should have been me for a change; I get shot in the arm, you get shot in the gut." He stopped for a moment as rage and fear flooded his emotions. "Thank you for coming to save me, just like I knew you would. We all know you'll find us if we're in trouble. Just don't die, you hear me, John, don't die."

A nurse came over, "Sir, we need to do some things to help him, let me take you to your friends." Rodney nodded, and she escorted Rodney to the ICU lounge.

 

 **Day Five: Daytime**

The night was endless. Sheppard suffered two more drastic blood pressure drops, but the staff managed to stabilize him. Around 2:00 am, Rodney appeared to be quite uncomfortable and General Landry forced him to return to his room. Ronon returned with him, coming back and forth to the lounge regularly for updates. The ICU nurses coerced Beckett to get some sleep in the ICU doctor's lounge. As the sun rose over Las Vegas, those gathered around Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief that the colonel had made it through the night.

Rodney returned to the ICU lounge shortly after breakfast. An arrangement he made with his doctor, who was decidedly unhappy he had gotten out of bed during the night. He arrived as Carson entered the lounge to brief them.

"Rodney," Carson asked, "how are you feeling?"

Rodney was anxious, "I'm fine; how's Sheppard?"

"Stable, and he has been for the last two hours; Dr. Frankel is encouraged, as am I. He has a bit more color, and his breathing is improved. Frankel has ordered his nurse to begin to wean him off the vent if his pressure and other vitals are still stable after another hour. We may have turned the corner here; it’s perhaps, a bit early to say that absolutely, but he is improving. The nurses are doing some routine things right now, but one of them will let you know when you can go in to see him. I am going to meet with Dr. Frankel to discuss his status and treatment plan. This doctor has been extremely considerate in including me in the colonel's treatment; I'll let you know how that goes."

Carson departed and Ronon told General Landry that he looked like he could use some coffee, and headed for the cafeteria. That left only Landry and McKay in the private waiting room, Detective Marshall had gone home to shower with the promise to return. He was as concerned about Sheppard, as they were.

Rodney watched the tired looking general as he gazed at the television hanging on the wall, watching the news. A complicated man, this general, no one had expected him to turn up, but here he was, sitting in an ICU lounge waiting for word on one of his command.

"General Landry, " Rodney spoke quietly.

"You need something, doctor?"

"No, I just…was just wondering why you were here. I know that Sheppard's badly hurt, but none of us expected to see you. So, other than the obvious reason of Sheppard's injury, why are you here, general?"

Landry grinned ever so slightly, "I'm worried about Sheppard; got to know him when he was at the SGC for those months when Atlan…the base… was back in the hands of the original owners. Sheppard has a penchant for getting into trouble; that's fairly well known. However, not because he's a troublemaker, but because he just couldn't stand by and let something happen when he felt action needed to be taken, especially when people's lives were involved. Hell, I knew when you all took off to rescue O'Neill and Woolsey that in the end, Sheppard would be proven right regarding his actions and wouldn't be in trouble. Besides, O'Neill had been there too many times himself to call Sheppard on it."

Rodney said, "You know he respects you a great deal; in some ways, maybe more than he respects O'Neill. He once remarked that O'Neill understands what we do, because he's done it. You, on the other hand, haven't done what we do; yet you seem to make the right decisions about what we need. You understand the support that Sheppard and all the other commanding officer's require to do their jobs."

Landry was silent for a moment, "That's….that's nice to hear. To answer your question, Rodney, I care about Sheppard, and I care about what all of you have been through in the last few months. That's why I came; I want Sheppard, all of you know that you have my support. I fully realize not a one of you wants to be here, by here I mean here," he spread his arms out to indicate the planet. "I know where you want to be, and I promise I am working toward that goal. The IOA is being a pain in my ass, but I will make it happen."

Rodney brightened, "Really, when?"

Landry laughed, "Down, McKay; it'll happen when it happens."

"You know Sheppard likes Sam Carter best of all."

Landry sighed, "Don't we all, Doctor McKay, don't we all."

Ronon returned with coffee and snacks for both men, and they spent the next several hours waiting as Sheppard became stronger. Very late in the afternoon, after deciding that Sheppard could breathe on his own, the vent was removed. There were some tense moments, as he seemed to have some trouble getting full breathes, but slowly he began to breathe regularly. Beckett was encouraged and insisted that Ronon return to the hotel to rest. Ronon went back to the hotel but only to take a shower and change clothes. He returned in a couple of hours, bringing clothes for Beckett and McKay, who was being discharged the next day. General Landry had gone to his hotel for a rest, promising to return in a few hours.

 

 **Day Six: Midnight**

Exhaustion had finally caught up with McKay, and Ronon had taken him back to his room around 10 pm, then returned to the SICU. Carson was napping in the doctor's lounge and while the unit was quiet, the nurses allowed Ronon to sit with Sheppard for as long as he liked. He had been in the darkened room watching Sheppard sleep for almost two hours when he heard a slight moan. He stood up quickly, and took the short step to the bedside.

"Sheppard, can you hear me?"

Sheppard's head moved slightly toward Ronon's voice, "R-Ron…Ronon.."

"Yeah, it's me, don't talk; I'm gonna get the nurse." He started to walk away when Sheppard reached out and weakly grabbed his arm, "Rod…ney…okay?" His voice weak, rough, but clear.

Ronon grinned, "Yeah, Rodney's fine; now be quiet, I'll be back."

While a nurse went to check on Sheppard, Ronon went to the doctor's lounge and roused Beckett, who jumped up and ran into the unit and Sheppard room. The room was bathed in bright light; the nurse had turned on the light over Sheppard's head.

"Doctor, he's very agitated."

Beckett reached up, dimming the light, "Ah, lassie, I should have told you he hates to wake up to bright light in the infirmary. He'll calm down now, don't worry."

"John, it's Carson, come on, lad; talk to me."

"C-Carson…"

"Welcome back, John; it's good to hear your voice."

"How…l-long…"

A little over thirty-six hours, you've had surgery to repair the damage from the bullet, but you're going to be fine. You're in the surgical intensive care unit at the University Medical Center in Las Vegas."

"Ro-Ronon said Rodney okay, the girls…"

"Not a scratch on them, and the caretaker is going to make it. His injuries were serious; he's here in the SICU as well, but he's going to be fine." Sheppard nodded slightly, but didn't reply.

Carson asked him, "A sip of water, John?" Sheppard nodded again, and as Beckett reached for the glass and straw, Ronon spoke.

"Doc, I'm gonna go get McKay."

"No, we should let Rodney rest; he'll find out in the morning that Sheppard has awakened."

Ronon frowned and Carson sighed deeply, "You're right; he will kill us if we don't tell him now. Go get him."

Twenty minutes later, Ronon returned with a groggy McKay, who insisted on walking to the SICU.

"Carson, is he still awake?" Carson nodded and Rodney approached the bed.

"Sheppard, it's Rodney; it's about time you woke up."

"S-sorry, not on y-your schedule, 'Kay," there was a definite note of sarcasm in Sheppard's voice.

Rodney smiled, "Yeah, just like you to ruin the vacation."

"Rodney," Carson snipped, angry with the scientist.

"Okay, d-doc, wasn't me…who got kid…napped; his…fault," Sheppard whispered.

Carson laughed, the first laugh in nearly two days, "He's got you there, Rodney. Now, come on, we need to let him rest. The nurses will look out for him, all of you out of here.

Before Rodney left, he leaned over Sheppard's bed, "Listen, flyboy, I never doubted you were coming to save us; just sorry you got hurt." He grabbed Sheppard's hand and felt the colonel weakly squeeze his hand.

By noon the next day, Sheppard had progressed enough to transfer from the SICU to the med-surge floor, where his friends could remain with him full-time. Another twenty-four hours passed and Carson was ecstatic over his improvement; Sheppard was eating better and walking with assistance.

 **Day Nine**

General Landry, who had spent a great deal of time at Nellis Air Force base, once Sheppard was out of the woods, dropped by before he returned to the SGC. Detectives Marshall and Burton, stopped by to see Sheppard and update them on the case. Marcella Ponci and the others had been arraigned on numerous charges, including kidnapping and attempted murder. Marshall asked to see Sheppard alone for a minute.

"Colonel, I just wanted to apologize for not wanting you on this case. We couldn't have caught them without your assistance, whatever it was. Thank you." He held out his hand, and Sheppard accepted his handshake.

"Marshall, no hard feelings; you were doing your job, and I was trying to protect my people and save a very valuable member of my team, and a friend."

"Thanks, colonel, speedy recovery, and next time you're in Vegas, look me up, I owe you a drink."

Sheppard was tired after all the company, and Carson ordered everyone to either leave or be quiet. After Sheppard had fallen to sleep, the others busied themselves with games or watching the TV, which was turned very low. It was nearly eleven pm, when Rodney brought up the subject of the hotel.

"When I went to take a shower and change today, I checked with the front desk; we were scheduled to check out yesterday, but Caesars offered to leave our reservation open-ended, we can stay until we want. They were quite willing to do anything that we wanted considering Sheppard recovered all their money. I think it's best to stay here while Sheppard recuperates. Carson, what do you think?"

"Yes, Rodney, I thi.."

"No…" Sheppard said weakly.

They all got up and went to Sheppard's bed. Rodney responded, "No, what do you mean no?"

"Reservations made at Lake Mead," he paused, catching his breath, "rented houseboat, taking Carson fishing."

Carson was smiling broadly, "Fishing, colonel, on a houseboat; my uncle had a houseboat I used to spend time on, it was great fun."

Rodney frowned, "Oh joy."

Sheppard sniped, "McKay, shut up; Carson, info's on my laptop. Bring it to me in the morning and I'll get it for you."

"I can retrieve the information from your laptop," Rodney said.

"If you think I'm going to let you hack into my computer, McKay, you're crazy."

"What do you think I'd…"

"Both of you, enough; John, Rodney and I are going to the hotel tonight, Ronon is staying with you because he refused to go. We will see you in the morning. Sleep well and Ronon, call us if you need us. Come on, Rodney."

 **Day Ten: Daytime ******

 **The next morning, Carson and Rodney arrived before breakfast, Sheppard's laptop in hand. Sheppard retrieved the houseboat reservation information, which made Carson almost giddy. Sheppard was scheduled for an MRI to make certain all of his surgical repairs were healing without complications. About an hour and a half later, when he returned to his room, Rodney was tapping away at a computer.**

 **"That better be your computer, Rodney." Sheppard said as the tech helped him back into bed. Rodney frowned at him and didn't reply.**

 **"Where's Ronon and Carson?"**

 **"They went to Lake Mead to check on the houseboat. Carson was way too excited; it's embarrassing."**

 **"You let Carson and Ronon drive to Lake Mead, McKay; what were you thinking?"**

 **"Carson can drive, what's the problem?"**

 **"Can he stay on the right side of the road, is my question. Geez, McKay, you should have made them wait until I got back."**

 **"What, were you going to drive them?"**

 **Sheppard stared at him, reached for his cell phone, and called Carson, who assured him everything was fine. He found himself fretting for four hours until an excited Carson and Ronon burst through the door.**

 **"John, the houseboat is a palace, the thing's seventy feet long. I even got to take her out of the marina and back, so I'd know how to handle her. The interior is amazing, and Rodney, they have Wi-Fi, so you are not going to go nuts."**

 **Ronon was beaming, "It's really cool, Sheppard."**

 **"Yeah, it is and they have a great bait and tackle shop, I got some new stuff that I was playing with on our way back."**

 **Sheppard swallowed, "On your way back, while you were driving?"**

 **"Oh, no; Ronon was driving."**

 **"Ro-Ronon was driving, Ronon can't drive."**

 **"Yeah, I can; we had vehicles on Sateda."**

 **Carson said, "He has a license, colonel."**

 **Sheppard sank back on his pillow, "It's a fake, for ID only, you know that."**

 **"Well, he did good, but if it makes you feel better, I took over when we got close to town."**

 **"No, it doesn't, but it's done; no one goes anywhere without me again."**

 **Rodney smirked, "Well, he's feeling better; back ordering us around again."**

 **Carson ignored Rodney, "John, on the way up here, I ran into Dr. Frankel. He said you are healing faster than he had expected; he's quite pleased. I discussed his discharging you from the hospital into my care. He said if you ate well tonight and your vitals were good tomorrow, he would discharge you. We'll go back to the hotel, get packed up tonight, and we'll head straight to Lake Mead from here.**

 **  
**Day Eleven: Morning…On to Lake Mead**   
**

The next morning, Dr. Frankel stopped by to examine Sheppard, and after laying some ground rules, discharged him from the hospital into Dr. Beckett's care. Rodney went to the business office to take care of Esteban Sanchez's bill. Milagros has stopped in the day before to thank Sheppard and Rodney for saving them, and brought a gift for Sheppard, a rosary. She told him that no matter his beliefs, she wanted him to have her rosary and hoped that it would keep him safe.

Carson took Sheppard's things, and headed downstairs to bring the Range Rover to the hospital entrance. Ronon remained with Sheppard to accompany him downstairs.

Sheppard emerged from the bathroom, attempting to walk as if he were perfectly fine, Carson, however, had warned Ronon that Sheppard was not nearly as strong as he was trying to make them believe. Ronon stood just outside the bathroom door, and when Sheppard stumbled, Ronon kept him from falling.

"Hey, big guy; thanks," Sheppard said as Ronon helped him ease down on the side of the bed. Sheppard had managed to get his jeans on but he was having trouble with his shirt. His entire torso was tender and movement was painful. Ronon grabbed it from him and helped him slid his arms into the dark blue shirt. When Ronon started to button his shirt, Sheppard slapped his hand away, and gingerly buttoned it himself.

"You know, you don't have to act like you don't hurt. We all know how bad your injury was."

Sheppard frowned, "I'm fine," and started to bend down to put on his shoes. A moan escaped his lips, and a fine bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Ronon rolled his eyes, "Yeah, fine; stop, I'll do it." He knelt down and put Sheppard's shoes on and laced them.

"Don't tell Beckett," he said when Ronon finished.

Ronon began to take the cuff off his right wrist, Sheppard watched, then realized it was his leather cuff. "That's the cuff you gave me."

Ronon motioned for him to put out his wrist, and Sheppard complied as Ronon explained, "The paramedic from the helicopter removed it to put an IV in your hand. He was afraid you hand would swell, so he wanted it off. I decided to hold it for you until you walked out of here." He fastened the cuff and took a step backwards. Sheppard ran the fingers of his left hand over the braiding along the edge of the cuff.

He didn't look up as he quietly said, "Thanks; I'm glad you were with me."

Ronon patted Sheppard on the shoulder and both men were spared anything further conversation as a nurse's aide rolled a wheelchair into the room. Sheppard with help from Ronon sat in the chair and after a quick goodbye at the nurse's station, they headed for the hospital entrance.

Rodney and Carson were waiting for them, and Sheppard attempted to get up as though he was fully recovered. Carson stepped in front of the wheelchair, "Just what do you think you're doing, laddie. You are still extremely weak, and probably should be in this hospital for another two, possibly three days. You are not going to do anything for the next forty-eight hours, unless I tell you can."

"Yeah, doc; you were right, he almost fell trying to get dressed." Sheppard glared at Ronon, as the Satedan did exactly what Sheppard asked him not to do, but Ronon just smirked back.

Beckett looked at Ronon, "Aye, Ronon; I expected that, help him into the car."

Sheppard stared at the doctor, but nodded to Ronon, which immediately told his friends that the colonel knew he needed help. No one chose to state that fact that out loud.

"Okay, people, let's get going," Rodney said, as he got in the driver's seat.

"Hey, McKay, I'll drive," Ronon volunteered.

From the back seat, Sheppard sighed, "Get in the car, Chewie; you're not driving."

As McKay pulled on to the street, Carson was grinning broadly and announced, "On to Lake Mead, for a few days of fishing, relaxing; this is going to be such fun!"

Rodney groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for taking time to read the latest segment of Road Trip...hope you enjoyed. I would love to hear from you.
> 
> The quote, "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." by Ralph Waldo Emerson, was sent to me by a very close friend. Her fourteen-year-old daughter included this quote in a message she wrote in my friend's Mother's Day card. To be considered a hero by a fourteen-year-old is high praise indeed.
> 
> The Liberace Museum closed on October 17, 2010. This story is set in September 2010. The Liberace Foundation is still in operation, providing scholarships for young musicians.


	6. Part Four    Gone Fishin'…  Day 1 & 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genres: Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course  
> Word Count: Part Four…Day One and Two 12,060  
> Spoilers: Post-Season Five  
> Warnings: Language  
> Disclaimer: I do not own them; I would have treated them better.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Our guys are now at Lake Mead, Sheppard is recuperating from his gunshot wound, Carson gets to fish, Ronon is soaking up Earth culture (and all the Mountain Dew he can drink), and Rodney's whining. A nice, quite time just goofing off, relaxing, and recuperating on the lake. They can't get into trouble here, can they?
> 
> (The lake lends itself to a more leisurely pace…so I hope you enjoy! This is only the first two days, there will be more Lake Mead adventures...)

**Part Four Gone Fishin'…**

 **Day One**

"He's asleep already? We’re not out of the Vegas city limits yet, is that all he's going to do, sleep?"

Carson leaned forward, "Rodney, please keep your voice low; John needs as much rest as possible." He watched as Rodney flexed his left arm gingerly, "How is your arm feeling today?"

Rodney peered in the rear-view mirror at Carson, and snapped, "How do you think it feels? I was shot, remember?"

Carson snapped back, "No need to be so cheeky."

Rodney's expression turned sheepish, "My arm's okay; doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did a couple of days ago. I only took three Advil this morning."

Ronon glanced over his shoulder at Carson, a mischievous grin on his face, then said to Rodney, "McKay, if you're hurting, I'll drive."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Carson, you should have never let him drive. He's going to pester me all the way to the lake."

Rodney's whining managed only to elicit a chuckle from Carson, who patted Ronon on the shoulder, winking at the big guy.

Before they departed Las Vegas, Carson decided they should shop for groceries at a large supermarket, the small grocery at the marina didn't have a great variety. Leaving Sheppard and Ronon in the car, he and Rodney shopped for supplies, enough supplies to prompt Sheppard to ask if they'd left anything in the store. Ronon only wanted to know if they had bought Mountain Dew; Carson assured him they did. After cramming the numerous bags of groceries into the Rover, they headed for Lake Mead.

They'd been on the road for approximately thirty-five minutes; no one had spoken, lost in their own thoughts. Rodney finally broke the silence.

"I thought some of the planets we visited were desolate, but I never realize we had the same boring terrain on Earth. This is past boring, nothing but mile after mile of yucky, gray sand and scrub, punctuated with rolling hills…it's boring."

"I like it," Ronon announced brightly.

Rodney snarked, "Yeah…well, you would, Conon."

"McKay, you should be more aware of the beauty of your world; you almost lost your planet." Ronon responded in a subdued voice.

Rodney was about to reply when he felt a kick to the back of his seat, "Yeah, Rodney…if it hadn't been for Zelenka, we might not be here to enjoy the scenery," Sheppard taunted. His voice was weak but there was no doubting his humorous tone.

"Zelenka…Zelenka wouldn't have pulled off the wormhole drive if I hadn't figured it out first," McKay sputtered.

"Quit being so defensive, McKay; you have to admit Zelenka did the exact calculations that allowed Atlantis to arrive in time. You have to give him credit for that."

"Well, I…uh…yeah, okay…I'll give Zelenka that."

Sheppard's chuckle turned to a groan as he sat up, having slouched down in the seat as he napped.. Quickly looking at Beckett, he said, "Don't…just don't; I'm sore that's all." He pushed himself the rest of the way up, "We close to the marina?"

Ronon answered, "Yeah…only a couple more miles; would've been there sooner if I was driving, McKay drives like an old man."

"I do not."

Sheppard and Beckett were laughing heartily. Beckett squeaked out, "Yeah…you do."

"Just because I drive the speed limit, doesn't mean…"

Sheppard interrupted, "At least, he can keep the car straight; he can't keep a jumper flying straight."

"Listen, flyboy, I'll have you…"

"Water, I see water," Ronon said, pointing out the windshield.

In the distance, a sliver of blue was visible between the pale gray-beige hills. They were going downhill as the road dropped to the level of the lake. Within a few minutes, they were past the hilly landscape and the Callville Bay Marina, with its wide, expansive boat ramp, came into view. Beyond the ramp floated several docks where motorboats and houseboats were berthed. The water was dark azure, a slight chop allowing the bright midday sunlight to cast a glittery glow on the surface.

"Rodney, the long-term parking lot is on the left, try to find a parking place as close to the docks as you can. I don't want John walking any further than necessary."

"Carson, I can walk," Sheppard replied but gave up when he saw Carson's glare.

Rodney turned left into the driveway entrance, and headed toward the marina, fortunately finding a parking place within a few slots of the docks. Carson tapped Ronon on the shoulder before he exited the car.

"Here," handing Ronon a set of keys, "these open the salon door, you remember which houseboat is ours? It's tied on the fourth dock, on the very end." Ronon nodded and Carson continued, "You take John on down there; Rodney and I will start unloading the groceries." He turned to Sheppard, who had unbuckled his seatbelt, his hand on the door handle. "Oh no, laddie, you wait for Ronon to help you. The last thing I need is for you to get dizzy and fall into the loch."

Sheppard sighed, removing his hand, dutifully waiting for Ronon. The Satedan opened Sheppard's door and held out his hand, which Sheppard brushed away, a very unhappy look on his face. "I am not an invalid, Ronon; I can get out of the car all by myself."

Slowly exiting the car, Sheppard was determined not to permit them to see that he was dizzy and in pain. His efforts were for naught; he stumbled as his foot hit the pavement, nearly falling before Ronon caught him.

"Sheppard, you either let me support you, or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you. Which is it?" Ronon had planted his body in front of the car door. Sheppard frowned but nodded his acceptance of help. Ronon steadied the colonel as he stepped out of the car, and they slowly headed for the houseboat, Ronon's hand glued to Sheppard's upper-right arm.

By the time, Rodney and Carson arrived with the first load of groceries, Ronon had settled Sheppard in a chair on the main deck. Carson quickly noticed how pale and shaky Sheppard appeared, tiny beads of sweat on his brow.

"Are you hungry, John?"

"No, not really…I ate almost all of my breakfast this morning."

"I think a good lunch and some pain meds, followed by a wee bit of rest are in your future, colonel." As Sheppard started to protest, Carson stopped him. "No arguments, you agreed to Dr. Frankel's conditions for your discharge, and one of his conditions was that you were to do what I tell you. You rest here; I'm gonna help unload the rest of the groceries from the Rover."

Ronon put his hand on Carson's shoulder, "McKay and I will get the rest of the food and the luggage, you stay here."

Rodney's mouth opened long enough to say, "You realize how many trips it's…." before Ronon dragged him off the houseboat.

Sheppard frowned, "Carson, go help them you don't need to babysit."

"Enough, come into the salon while I start putting the groceries away. We turned on the AC yesterday when we were here, it should be nice and cool." Carson helped Sheppard up and steered him toward one of the two couches in the main salon, where Sheppard stretched out. Carson opened a cabinet, pulling out a glass, filled it with ice from the dispenser in the refrigerator door and opened a bottle of water. From his medical bag, he pulled out a vial of pills and took a couple out.

"Here, take these," Beckett held out his palm, "and I don't want to hear an argument." Sheppard took the pills without saying a word.

Carson busied himself with stowing the groceries. About five minutes later, Rodney and Ronon came in loaded with more bags. Rodney was huffing; he dropped his bags at the doorway, hurrying to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "This is still warm."

Carson smiled sweetly, "Yes, it is Rodney; I just put them in there, get a glass from that cabinet and ice from the thingy in the door."

Ronon deposited his bags on the dining table and then retrieved the bags Rodney was carrying. "Come on, McKay, couple more loads and we'll be done." Rodney didn't budge, drinking his glass of water down in one continuous gulp. Ronon crossed his arms, "McKay."

Rodney sighed dejectedly, his shoulder drooping, "Oh…I like it better when there are bellhops." Ronon continued to frown at him. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

"Rodney, I'll have lunch ready when you finish, now go with Ronon."

As Rodney walked passed Sheppard lying on the couch, he turned to Carson, "Is he asleep…again."

"Shush, Rodney… you'll wake him. I gave John some pain meds, now go help Ronon and be quiet." Beckett waved his hand, dismissing Rodney, who shrugged and followed Ronon.

As the sound of Rodney and Ronon's footsteps faded, Carson said quietly, "Laddie, I only gave you a light pain med, didn't want you sleeping before you ate. So, you aren't asleep are you?"

"Nope…just preferred not to fuel McKay's whining."

Carson chuckled, "Smart man."

By the time Rodney and Ronon made two more trips to get the luggage, Carson had lunch on the table. Rodney dropped the suitcases he was carrying in the center of the salon and immediately started making a sandwich.

Carson snipped, "Rodney McKay, you put that bread down, and put away these suitcases. I want this all cleared before you eat."

Rodney frowned, "Who are you, my mother?" His snarky tone only managed to elicit a facetious grin from Carson.

Rodney grabbed his bags, heading to one of the bedrooms on the main deck level. Carson spotted him, "Where do you think you're going? You take one of the cabins below."

Rodney turned toward Carson, grouching, "Why?"

"Because Rodney, John will be taking one of the cabins on this deck and I will be taking the other, you and Ronon will bunk down below."

"How come you get one of the bedrooms on this deck?"

Carson put down the paper plates he was holding, and turned to Rodney, "John does not need to be going up and down stairs any more than he has to, and I need to be close to John. The bedrooms on the lower deck are the same size and just as nice, now take your things downstairs."

Rodney hesitated, obviously chagrined, "Okay… uh…I'll just take my stuff downstairs." Ronon grabbed his stuff and followed, slapping Carson on the back as he passed by.

As the doctor finished setting the table, Sheppard mumbled, "Carson, you are going to make someone a very good mother."

"Don't get cheeky, Colonel Sheppard; I know where the syringes are."

Sheppard scrunched up his face, "Ouch…you win, doc."

"You need to remember that, laddie." Carson walked over to him, "Feel like sitting at the table to eat."

Sheppard gripped the back of the couch and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The exertion caused him to be a little breathless, but he swung his legs around to the floor and stood up. Rather, he attempted to stand; he rose approximately six inches off the couch, then sat back down. He looked up at Carson, frustration on his face, "A little help please."

Carson feigned surprise, "Was John Sheppard asking for help?"

Sheppard sighed, dropping his head to his chest, "Who's being cheeky now?"

Carson slipped his arm under Sheppard's and pulled the colonel to his feet, supporting him until Sheppard was less wobbly. He asked, "Can you walk to the table on your own?"

A nod was the only answer he could manage. Shakily, he traversed the few steps to the table, and sat down. Breathing shallowly, he said, "Carson, you keep quiet about this, okay?"

He chuckled, "Our little secret John, I promise. I'm certain Ronon and Rodney won't even notice that you are extremely weak from being shot just a few days ago."

"I just don’t want them hovering over me, like I'm some kind of invalid."

Carson scowled, as he sat down next to Sheppard, "I'm beginning to believe I should've left you in the hospital. It was too early; perhaps I should take you back."

Sheppard glared at him, then his expression softened as he realized that Carson was teasing him, "Sorry. I promise I'll do what you tell me, if you promise not to smother me."

"John, you lost a lot of blood when you were shot, and the bullet wreaked havoc on your insides. You hadn't had time to recover fully from the injury at the roadhouse. It's understandable that it's taking a bit of time to recover from this. You really shouldn't have left the hospital; I was surprised that Dr. Frankel discharged you."

Sheppard chewed on his lower lip before he replied, "I'm just tired of this shit. What are we, two weeks into our leave? I've spent five-six days in the hospital, kept all of you from having fun." He dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the table.

"Aye, lad, you have; but you saved a bunch of people at the roadhouse, and you rescued Rodney and those girls, and recovered all the money. You did well, except for once again, getting yourself hurt."

"Yeah, I gotta stop doing that."

Sounds of bickering were coming up the stairs, and Carson quickly asked, "You sure you feel like sitting up for a while?" Sheppard nodded, and Carson said, "Okay, but you let me know if you need to lie down."

Rodney and Ronon sat down at the table, Rodney looking peeved and Ronon smug. Sheppard had to ask, "Rodney, did you just suck on a lemon or something?"

"He's just mad because I took the cabin on the end of boat," Ronon said.

Rodney snarked, "Stern…it's the stern of the boat, not the 'end of the boat.'

Beckett was getting ice from the freezer, "Rodney you are being especially testy today; you need to eat something. Now, sit down and fix yourself a plate."

The four friends busied themselves the next several minutes making sandwiches, and eating. Ronon piled his plate, and began eating with gusto, causing Sheppard to chuckle. "A little fresh air does our boy good," but taking note of the 2-liter Mountain Dew next to Ronon, he added, "Carson, I don't think you bought enough Dew."

Rodney asked, "So, what now; what do we do on Lake Mead?"

"We have fun, Rodney," Carson answered.

"Well, that tells me a lot."

"Rodney, the idea of a vacation is to relax, do what you want to do. If you choose to sit inside in the AC and play with your computer, then do it. No one is going to stop you," Sheppard replied.

Ronon had finished two large roast beef sandwiches, double servings of potato salad, and nearly all of his Dew, "I wanna swim."

Sheppard shook his head, "I'd join you, big guy, but I have a feeling 'Momma Carson' isn't going to allow me to do that." His slight grimace did not go unnoticed.

"No swimming for you, laddie." Carson looked at Sheppard's plate, "You've just picked at your food. John, you need to eat, you've lost entirely too much weight." Turning toward Ronon, he asked, "Would you take John's bags into the room across from the bathroom and mine in the other?" Ronon nodded, and moved the bags into the cabins.

Carson started clearing the empty plates, leaving Rodney and John at the table. Rodney studied his friend for a moment, then queried, "So, you feeling any better?"

Between bites of watermelon, Sheppard answered, "Yeah, just tired, Rodney."

Rodney squirmed, clearly uncomfortable, "You should rest. I mean; you…well…you're injured because you had to save my ass again."

Sheppard deadpanned, "Feeling guilty, McKay?"

He hesitated before he answered, stumbling over his words, "I…I; yeah, I am."

Sheppard lowered his head, not wanting Rodney to see him smile at his friend's admission to feeling guilt. "You didn't cause this, Rodney. You were a victim, just like the two women who were taken with you. All victims of a bunch of bad guys. Shit happens; you've been in Pegasus long enough to know that, so stop blaming yourself. Besides, I didn't do a very good job protecting you, you were shot, too."

McKay frowned, "I get it; Colonel John Sheppard is allowed to feel guilty, but I can't. Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Carson returned to the table, picking up Sheppard's plate of nibbled-at food with a look of resignation. "You lads are going to be the death of me." Noting the dull pain in the colonel's green eyes, Carson sighed. "John, it's time for meds and a rest, so off to bed with you, lad." He turned to Ronon, who was sitting on a couch, "Would you take the stubborn colonel to his cabin and help him get undressed. I'll be there in a minute."

"I don't need help," Sheppard complained. When Carson only cocked his head in reply, Sheppard gave up, and allowed Ronon to help him stand. Sheppard walked the short distance to his cabin on his own.

When Carson arrived a few minutes later, med kit in hand, Ronon was leaning against the dresser while Sheppard fumbled with getting his shirt off. Ronon simply shrugged when Carson looked at him questioningly. Quietly, Carson motioned for the Satedan to leave.

"Come on, lad; you are hell-bent on doing this yourself, get on with it. I want to check your wounds; so, hurry up, get undressed." Beckett stepped back from the bed, leaning against the dresser and waited.

Sheppard gave the doctor a nasty smirk and proceeded with removing his shirt. As he bent over to take off his shoes, he couldn't stifle a groan. He felt Carson's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Enough, lad," Carson said quietly. He slipped Sheppard's shoes off, then told him to lie down. After examining the colonel's wounds, Carson gave him an injection.

Carson pulled the bedcovers over him, "You rest; I'll get you up for dinner, which you will eat."

As Sheppard drifted off, he heard a happy bellow, and a resounding splash of water, no doubt Ronon going for a swim. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~~ooOoo~~

John Sheppard awoke slowly, aware that the once bright cabin was now dim, violet light spilling in the windows. Familiar sounds floating toward him; water lapping a hull, recognized voices, warm and comforting. For a moment, he imagined he was on Atlantis. Then the aroma of grilled meat filled his nostrils, and he felt hungry for the first time in days. He gingerly pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He had to admit that he felt better after taking a nap, maybe he should listen to Carson more often. He scoffed; it would probably be smarter just to keep from getting injured all the time. He whispered, "Yeah, like that'll happen, John." He pushed himself up, wobbling a bit, and reached for his shirt, which was lying on a chair. Padding across the room, he opened the door, stepping into the short narrow passageway.

Rodney was sitting at the dining table, intent on his laptop in front of him. Stretched out on one of the couches, Ronon had the TV remote in hand, the sound of gunfire coming from the flatscreen. Carson disappeared out the salon door to the small deck on the bow of the houseboat, where smoke was rising from a gas grill.

Sheppard crept across the hall into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. After washing his hands, he splashed cold water on his face. Carson was right; he had lost a lot of weight. His face was gaunt, slight stubble covering the paleness. That morning, a pretty nurse had decided he needed a shave before he was discharged, despite his protests. At least now, he didn't have to shave unless he chose to shave. However, he did have to eat and at that moment, eating sounded wonderful; time to put some weight back on. He managed to get as far as the dining room table before Ronon noticed him.

"Hey, Sheppard," Ronon grinned.

Rodney looked up from his laptop, an anxious look on his face, "You, okay?"

"I'm fine, Rodney; just really hungry, when's dinner?"

Carson entered the salon, the smell of steaks on the grill wafting into the salon with him, "A wee bit hungry are you? Well, that's a good sign, and to answer your question dinner will be ready shortly."

"Good, I'm almost hungry enough to eat some of that haggis with whiskey sauce you keep raving about."

Carson grinned, "Ah, have a hankering for some haggis myself, laddie. Now, sit down on the couch and relax, the steaks will be ready in a few minutes."

Sheppard did as the doctor told him. Ronon got up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers, and handed one to Sheppard.

"O'Doul's, really? Ronon's got a Bud; this isn't fair," Sheppard lamented, staring at the beer bottle.

Carson laughed, "No alcohol for you 'til you are off the pain meds, John. Thank Rodney for thinking about getting you some non-alcoholic beer to pacify you."

Sheppard seemed surprised, "Thanks, Rodney, nice of you to think of that. I believe Ben Franklin said it best, 'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.'"

Rodney snarked, "Franklin never said that, he was talking about wine, not beer."

"I know, Rodney but it sounds better with beer," Sheppard took a swig of O'Doul's, making a face as he swallowed.

Ronon asked, "Franklin that guy who invented electricity? What did he say?"

"Not invented, just discovered, sort of. The actual quote is 'Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine, a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.'"

"You memorized that quote, Rodney? I'm shocked; it's not a very well-known quote of Franklin's." Sheppard remarked, his left eyebrow rising in surprise.

Everyone noticed Rodney was getting a tiny bit flushed, "I…I learned it in college, it just stuck with me."

Carson snickered as he removed five large baked potatoes from the oven, "I bet Rodney learned that quote because of a girl."

From the several shades of pink McKay turned, there was no doubt Carson was on to something. Sheppard chuckled, "I think you might be right, doc; I believe our Rodney has a secret he hasn't told us. Come on, McKay, spill the beans, tell us about her."

Rodney was a deep shade of beet red, "There's nothing to tell…"

Carson interrupted, "See, I told you there was a girl."

"She wasn't anything special; she was a history professor. I didn't want to take American history but I, well…I ended up liking the class. Her favorite historical character was Benjamin Franklin, so I just remembered that quote."

Ronon asked, a bit leeringly, "Trying to impress her, McKay?"

"Well, Rodney wouldn't be the first college student to try and 'impress' his professor," Sheppard answered.

"Like you never hit on one of your professors, flyboy."

"Well, McKay, most of my professors at the Academy looked like General Landry, so no…I didn't. Now, if one of them had looked like Colonel Carter; well, that would have been a different story."

At the mention of Sam Carter, Rodney got even redder, "She's certainly got better taste than you."

Sheppard laughed so hard he gasped from the pain shooting through his chest, "I suppose you think that if she had to choose, Sam would choose you over me; dream on, McKay."

Carson apparently decided that they had gone far enough teasing Rodney, "Come on, Rodney; I need help getting the steaks in. Ronon, make sure John gets to the table."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at the table, enjoying steaks, baked potatoes, pasta salad, and garlic bread. Carson was watching Sheppard, who was eating heartily.

"John, your appetite seems to be back; that's good to see."

"Good food does that to me. Where did you learn to cook?"

"Me mum thought I should learn to cook just like my sisters; so she taught me right along with them. I actually enjoy it, nice to be able to cook for a change."

"I hear ya; I like to cook, too."

Rodney sputtered, "You…you cook?"

"Yeah, I can cook, what's so surprising about that?"

"Well, Mr. Macho Flyboy, you don't seem the type."

Sheppard stared into space for a moment, "Miss Gilly, the woman who raised my brother and me after our mother died, is from Jamaica. We met her, and her daughter Madeline when I was five; my dad was working with the Jamaican government on an energy project, and brought us with him. Miss Gilly was the housekeeper at the house my parents rented. She and my mom became best friends in the month we were there. Miss Gilly's husband was killed during a riot in Kingston a couple of years before; he was a government worker, who was trying to get home and got caught in the violence."

He paused, "My mother didn't want to leave Jamaica without them, and my father could never refuse her anything. He made all the arrangements, sponsored them, and they came home with us. After…well, afterward, she raised Dave and me. Dave had no desire to learn to cook; he was like my father, but Miss Gilly taught Maddie and me to cook. Some of the most fun I had during those years."

He realized that everyone was hanging on every word he was saying, which embarrassed him. Sheppard didn't talk much about his past, and didn't know why he had today. He decided it must be the pain meds making him mellow. Sheepishly, he changed the subject.

"So what did you guys do while I was 'resting'."

Ronon beamed, "I went swimming and then Carson rented a din…" He looked to Carson for the word.

"Dingy…well, it's actually a seventeen-foot Boston Whaler, not exactly a dingy; I just called it that." He waved his hand for Ronon to continue.

"We went out in the boat to get an idea of where we wanted to go tomorrow." Ronon grinned, "Becket let me drive the boat."

McKay snarked, "I told you Carson should have never let him drive."

"Oh, hush your yakking, Rodney; Ronon handled the boat like a pro, better than you could, I imagine."

"So where are we going?" Sheppard asked.

Carson got up and grabbed a nautical map from the cabinet next to the pilot's chair in the salon. As he handed the map to Sheppard, he said, "I think we should go check out the dam first. It's less than ten miles from here, then we can find a good spot to anchor and do some fishing."

As he perused the map, Sheppard asked, "You gotten any fishing in yet?"

"I dropped a pole in the water for a bit, once Ronon and I returned, didn't catch anything." He beamed, "It felt good, laddie."

Sheppard smiled, and took another bite of steak, then pushed his plate away. Carson noticed his action, "You were doing so well, John, but you only ate about half of your meal."

"I was hungry, but just got filled up fast…but the steaks were great." Carson took his plate away without comment.

"Rodney, get up and help clear the table," Carson instructed. To Sheppard's surprise, Rodney did so without complaint, even helping to wash the dishes. He was going to have to ask the good doctor how he managed that feat.

Ronon got up, "Come on Sheppard, l was watching a movie, want to finish it."

Sheppard gingerly walked to one of the couches, "What are you watching?"

Ronon picked up the DVD case, "It's called "Die Hard or Live Free."

"You haven't seen this yet? I thought we had it on Atlantis."

"No, I haven't seen it; just started watching about ten minutes before dinner."

"Cool," Sheppard grinned excitedly, "so, you haven't seen the scene with the fighter jet yet? Ronon shook his head, and Sheppard said, "You're gonna love it."

They settled in to watch, and shortly Carson and Rodney joined them. Toward the end of the movie when the scene with the jet came on, Sheppard and Ronon, along with Beckett, became quite animated, excitedly commenting on the action as it happened. Sheppard paused the movie; he wanted to watch the scene again.

Ronon said, "That was cool."

Rodney scoffed, "That's all done by special effects. No pilot could fly like that; the planes weren't designed to maneuver that way."

Ronon took offense, "Hey Sheppard could fly like that."

Rodney replied, "Yeah, right; I'll give you that he can fly anything, but he can't do that," pointing to the screen.

"He can," Ronon pronounced, and threw a pillow at Rodney, which hit him in the head messing up his hair.

"What the….Why did you do that?" Rodney whined as he ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it down. On impulse, he threw the pillow back at Ronon, who threw it once again toward Rodney, except Rodney ducked and the pillow hit Sheppard in the chest. The colonel winced from the impact.

Beckett jumped up from his chair. "That's enough, you two are acting like children. Now sit down and behave or there won't be any ice cream for either one of you." He was standing in front of the television, hands-on-hips when he noticed that Sheppard was laughing.

"What is so hilarious to you, Colonel Sheppard?"

"You are; I think we will have to call you, "Momma Carson" from now on."

"Well, laddie, they could have hurt you," Carson said a serious look on his face, but as he stood there, he began to smile. "Yeah, I guess I would make someone a good mother. I have certainly had enough practice having to deal with the three of you behaving like children."

"Did you say ice cream?" Rodney asked, hopefully.

Carson sighed, "Yes, ice cream, and you can help me; don't start the movie yet, John."

When the movie ended, Carson realized that Sheppard was asleep again. He walked over and gently shook Sheppard awake.

"Come on, John; wake up; time for you to go to bed."

Mumbling, Sheppard replied, "Sleep here."

"No, no; you need to be in a real bed, let's go," Carson motioned for Ronon to help.

Reluctantly, Sheppard retreated to his cabin and allowed Ronon to help him into bed. He also neglected to complain when Carson gave him another shot for pain. He wouldn't admit he was hurting, but he was, probably from sitting up as much as he had during the evening.

Carson pulled his door shut as he left the room, but Sheppard could still hear Rodney whining, "Ronon, are you planning on eating all the ice cream?" As drifted to sleep, Sheppard thought 'Momma Carson" had his hands full.

~~ooOoo~~

 **Day Two**

Sunlight was streaming into the cabin as Sheppard awoke. The gentle rocking motion he felt made him think he was on Atlantis for a moment. As he gradually opened his eyes, he realized he wasn't at home. The walls surrounding him were white; pale wood cabinets were scattered about the room, and a brightly patterned bedspread covered him. He sighed, "Okay John, definitely not on Atlantis." As he breathed deeply, he caught the aroma of coffee and bacon, and Rodney's voice. He couldn't make out exactly what McKay was complaining about, but he caught two words, Ronon, and bacon. "That can't be good," he whispered. He decided it was time to get up and rescue Carson.

Sheppard threw back the covers, and swung his legs onto the floor. The first thing he realized was that he wasn't quite as tired as he had been yesterday, and he didn't hurt quite as much. As he pushed off the bed to stand, he winced; the pain radiating across his chest was there, but without the sharp, take his breath away intensity as before. He crossed the short distance to the dresser, where his suitcase was sitting and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of track pants.

A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he leaned on the dresser for a moment before he was able to continue. Once his head cleared, he sat on the bed, and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"Oh yeah John, that hurt," he mumbled as he tried to straighten out his right arm realizing he should have put on a buttoned shirt. He decided if he ever took the t-shirt off, he wouldn't make that mistake again. Putting on the track pants proved to be just as tricky. After a couple of attempts, first standing, then sitting in an attempt to put them on, he laid down on the bed, bending his knees and managed to get the pants on. Standing up, he pulled them the rest of the way, vowing not to change clothes ever again.

He snuck across the short corridor to the bathroom, fearing that if Carson saw him, the overprotective doctor would send Ronon to help him. He was doing just fine all by himself…until he fell. His yelp and the ensuing thud brought his friends running to the bathroom door.

Carson rushed in, dropping to his knees, "Laddie, you stubborn…did you hit your head?" He started to run his fingers across Sheppard's scalp.

"Stop, Carson," he swatted the doctor's hand away. "I didn't hit my head. I didn't see that damn trash can, and I tripped over it on the way out; caught myself with my left arm, I'm ok." Carson motioned for Ronon, who stepped into the bathroom and helped Sheppard to his feet.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" Carson asked which elicited a scowl from Sheppard. Carson tried not to laugh, somewhat unsuccessfully, "I'm sorry John; do you hurt anywhere that you didn't hurt when you came in here?

"No; now can I get some coffee?"

They headed for the kitchen and after Sheppard sat down, Rodney placed a mug of coffee in front of him. Sheppard remarked, somewhat startled, "I must be sick if you're waiting on me." Rodney's expression appeared bewildered, and he quickly added, "Thanks, appreciate it."

Carson asked, "Scrambled eggs okay with you, John?"

"Yeah, and throw in some cheese if you don't mind."

"Ronon, stop eating all the bacon," Rodney whined, as Ronon grabbed a couple of slices.

Carson was stirring the eggs, "Rodney, hush. I already put more bacon in the microwave, there's going to be plenty of bacon."

Sheppard sat quietly sipping his coffee, observing his friends. He preferred the atmosphere on the houseboat, so much cozier than the glitzy Caesar's Palace, fresh air, sunshine, no street noise. However, Carson was doing the brunt of the work. He needed to get healthier soon, so he could help cook. He was surprised that he felt an itch to cook; he hadn't cooked in a very long time. The last time he cooked was when he took a few days leave before the expedition first left for Atlantis. He had rented a small cabin in the mountains to get away from everyone and think about what lay ahead for him. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the exact moment when he committed to joining the Atlantis expedition. He had gone for a long hike and decided to rest on a hill next to a railroad bridge. On impulse, he pulled a coin from his pocket, flipping it to decide if he would go on the mission. He flipped the coin but never looked at it; he had known for a long time he was going to go. Sheppard chuckled silently, if he hadn't, O'Neill would have hunted him down and dragged him to the SGC. He wondered if he had imagined any of the events that had happened to them in the last six years, if he would have made the same decision. As he watched his friends busy themselves getting ready for breakfast, the answer was obvious. He wouldn't trade any of the horrible situations they had endured for the friendship of any one of them.

"John…John…is that enough eggs?" He roused from his thoughts to see Carson standing next to him with a huge skillet of scrambled eggs. He answered yes, and Carson then served everyone else. Sheppard was hungry, suspecting the fresh air had something to do with his appetite.

Before he sat down, Carson retrieved some pills from his bag, "Here; no shot this morning. I want to see if we can get by with the pills."

Sheppard took the pills, "Okay by me; I sure don't want to sleep all day. So, when are we heading to the dam?"

"Once we're done with breakfast and get everything put away, we'll head out. I checked the weather and it's gonna be nice all day, but the forecast calls for thunderstorms during the evening. I want to be certain that we get to good anchor before the weather gets nasty."

Rodney, chomping on a piece of thick toast mumbled, "Why don't we stay here if the weather's going to get bad?"

"After all we've been through McKay, you're afraid of a little thunderstorm?" Sheppard taunted.

"We're on a flimsy boat, it's not like we're on Atlantis."

Carson scowled, "This is not a 'flimsy' boat, Rodney. She'll do fine in a storm."

Sheppard grinned, "Something tells me, someone gets seasick. Is that what's worrying you, Rodney?

Rodney opened his mouth to deny Sheppard's accusation, then slouched in his seat, "My grandfather lived by a huge recreational lake, and he loved to take Jeannie and me fishing; I hated it. Once, we were in this little tiny boat, and the weather was already nasty, the surface was really choppy. Every time, a bigger boat sped by rocking us Jeannie squealed with delight; she loved it. I just became more and more nauseated."

Carson snickered, "Don't worry, Rodney. I got a supply of Dramamine from the pharmacy when I stocked up on medical supplies. I was worried someone," Carson winked in Sheppard and Ronon's direction, his head tilting toward Rodney, "might get seasick since this is a pretty big body of water. Although, it certainly takes a wimpy stomach to get sick on a loch," Carson teased.

They all waited for a snarky comeback from Rodney, which didn't materialize. He only replied, "Yeah, well…that's me then."

Ronon, between forkfuls of eggs, said, "I get seasick."

Rodney's head snapped around toward the big Satedan, "You… you get seasick?"

Ronon downed a huge gulp of orange juice, then answered, "Sort of the same story, McKay. My mom's brother operated a fishing boat on the coast about a hundred demets from Sateda City. When I was about ten, my parents thought a summer with my uncle on his fishing boat would be good for me. I was sick for the first three days, before my uncle felt pity on me and gave me some medicine."

Carson stuttered, "He…he waited for three days to give you something to stop the nausea?"

Ronon shrugged, "He thought it would make a man of me."

Carson got up to get more coffee, muttering, "Barbaric," under his breath.

"So, you grow out of it, or do you still get motion sickness?" Sheppard asked.

"When I was running, I was trying to get away from a Wraith hunting party. I found a boat tied up on a river, decided to go down-river, then double back to the gate. It was winter and extremely cold; lots of rapids on the river, I started feeling sick. Haven't been in that situation since."

Sheppard thought back to some of the harrowing rides they'd taken in the jumper. "Well, I guess we should thank the Ancients for inventing very effective inertia dampeners." Rodney simply nodded in agreement.

Carson brought the coffee carafe over and poured more coffee for everyone. Once seated, he raised his coffee cup in a toast, "Might not be alcohol, but it'll do, laddies. "Here's to a fun, uneventful and safe stay on the loch." He nodded to Sheppard on the word safe. They raised their mugs in response.

Rodney said, "Loch? Really Carson, you're in the United States, call it a lake."

"Cheeky, I'll call it a lake when you say 'Zee' PM, not 'Zed' PM."

Rodney leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, "It is 'Zed' PM."

Before the two had a chance to continue their bickering, Sheppard interrupted, "Carson, this thing gassed up and ready to go?"

"Aye that she is, and as soon as we get this mess cleaned up, we'll get underway."

He started to rise when Ronon pushed him back into his seat. "You, finish your coffee; McKay and I will clean this up."

"Lad, I…," Carson got no further as Sheppard kicked him under the table. He sent a quick glance Sheppard's way, then continued, "Thanks, Ronon."

McKay appeared anything but happy, but helped clear the table. Sheppard and Carson watched, somewhat amused as Ronon began washing the dishes, telling Rodney to dry.

Quietly, Carson asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Not so bad, certainly not like yesterday."

"I still think that we may have gotten you out of the hospital a day or two too soon. You want to lie down as we travel to the dam?"

Sheppard frowned, "No… I do not want to lie down. You going to pilot her from here or from the flying bridge?"

"I'd rather take her out from the top deck, better vantage point of what's around us. Think you can make the climb up top?"

"Yeah, mostly because I figure you'll make Ronon carry me." Sheppard was grinning somewhat sarcastically.

"Cheeky but correct, Ronon will help you; that ladder is steep."

Carson jumped up and grabbed the nautical charts from the cupboard under the helm. As Ronon and Rodney finished cleaning up, the colonel and the doctor finished their coffee while they plotted a course to the dam.

~~ooOoo~~

An hour later, two employees of the houseboat rental company assisted Ronon in untying the houseboat from moorings and cast off. Carson, at the fly bridge helm, nudged the engines sending the seventy-foot houseboat into the protected marina basin, then through the man-made tire break and into open water.

Sheppard was sitting on the padded bench that surrounded the bow of the houseboat, soaking up the sun. After nearly a week in the hospital, feeling the sun on his face felt good, the first time he'd been truly warm, since being shot. He glanced over at Carson, who was sitting at the helm, with what appeared to be a permanent grin on his face. It had been a long time Sheppard thought, since Carson looked that happy.

Ronon climbed to the upper deck with a couple of bags of chips, cookies, and a bag of fruit, dumping everything on the bar behind the helm. An apple fell out of the bag and rolled next to McKay's computer, startling McKay, who nearly jumped from his seat.

"Hey, watch it; I'm working here."

Sheppard said, "What do you mean you're working? If you are working, put that pad away."

"Bite me, Sheppard."

"I'd rather bite that apple, Chewie, toss it over to me." Ronon picked the apple up, handed it to Sheppard, and joined him on the bench.

"McKay, what are you doing?"

McKay looked up, glowering at Sheppard, "Nothing…I am not doing anything." He turned the pad off and grabbed something to drink.

Carson looked around, "Bring a chair up here, and enjoy the view, Rodney."

Ronon asked, "Beckett, how fast does the boat go?"

"About eight to ten miles per hour, but I'm not pushing her; it's only about nine miles to the dam from the marina, so we have plenty of time to get there and then get to the cove we decided to anchor in last night."

Ronon had been gazing around at the stark scenery, "Why's the rock on the shore two colors?"

Rodney answered, "When the lake levels are low, the submerged rock dries out the minerals deposited on the surface causing the rock to appear white."

Carson chuckled, "A bathtub ring."

"Well, that's stupid," Rodney quipped.

"No, no, that's what they call it according to the guys on the dock, a bathtub ring."

Sheppard spotted Rodney's cell phone in the pocket his shirt. He was certain the scientist had been calling Atlantis regularly. "Rodney, you haven't told me what's happening on Atlantis, last time you said you talked to Radek was four days ago. I know you talked to him since then, so what's the scoop?"

"Not much to tell, the goons from Area 51 still have their grubby hands all over everything. Radek caught a couple of them cataloguing equipment to take back to their little hovels with them. He went ballistic on Dr. Gervers, Pervers, whatever his name is; the Marines had to separate them. Radek told me that General Landry issued orders that no equipment, artifacts, or anything the Area 51 goons didn't bring with them, would leave Atlantis."

"How much longer are they going to be there?"

"Too damn long, in my opinion, I know you keep telling me that Radek and Lee will keep them from messing stuff up, but I don't believe it. Those Area 51 guys are Neanderthals."

"Rodney, be nice," Carson admonished, then continued, "How's Sergeant Johnston doing?" As sooner as the words came out of his mouth, he slapped his forehead, "Bugger, I can't believe I did that."

Sheppard was on his feet, grabbing the railing to keep himself steady, "What happened to Johnston?"

"Now, laddie, don't get excited; he's gonna be fine. There was a little explosion in the biochemical lab, caused by one of the visiting scientists…."

"Neanderthals…," Rodney sniped.

Carson continued, "The sergeant was on guard duty, and he rushed in to rescue the people in the lab; a storage locker fell on him. He has a concussion and a broken leg, but he's gonna be fine. Everyone in the lab is okay."

Sheppard's tone was even, but the others heard the undercurrent of anger in his voice, "When were you going to tell me?"

"John, the accident happened two days after your surgery, and Johnston was in no danger. Jennifer's back, and I spoke to her; she assures me that the sergeant will be fine. To be honest laddie, I hadn't planned on telling you at all."

Sheppard took a deep breath, "I need to know when my people are hurt; don't keep anything like that from me again. Is he still on Atlantis?" Carson nodded, and Sheppard walked over to Rodney and put out his hand, "McKay, give me your phone."

McKay looked at Carson, who nodded, and the scientist passed over his phone to the irritated colonel. They waited as Sheppard connected to Atlantis, speaking first to Woolsey, then to Jennifer, and finally, for a few minutes to Sergeant Johnston.

Sheppard had sat down next to McKay while he was on the phone. When Sheppard ended the call and handed him back the phone, McKay said quietly, "You know, you were hurt worse than he was; I doubt he was expecting you to call."

"Johnston is under my command, and I am responsible for him. Besides, I like the big guy."

Rodney laughed, "Yeah, you and Ronon are about the only ones who aren't scared of him."

Sheppard chuckled, "Let's see, six-foot-five two hundred and seventy-five pounds of Marine SO…yeah…I'm scared of him."

They cruised in silence the rest of the trip to the dam, enjoying the scenery. Ronon was having fun waving at the passing boats after Carson explained the tradition to him. Sheppard had returned to sit on the padded bench on the bow, and Rodney had turned his pad back on, completely immersed in whatever he was doing.

About ninety minutes after they left the marina, the dam came into view. They couldn't approach very closely, but even from the lakeside view, the dam was imposing. The four huge water intake towers rose from the water like sentinels guarding a fortress.

Ronon was mesmerized, "Sheppard that thing is huge."

"Yeah, Chewie; wait until you see it from the other side. It's past huge, built over 70 years ago; an amazing undertaking."

They remained for while longer absorbing the breathtaking sight. Carson finally turned the houseboat around and headed for Hideaway Cove to anchor. The night before, he and Sheppard had decided that the cove offered them good harbor, protection from the storms, and was near Callville Bay. They could use the Boston Whaler Carson rented to go back and forth to the marina for supplies.

On the way, Carson explained to Ronon and Rodney what they needed to do to anchor the houseboat when they arrived. An hour later, as he piloted the houseboat into the cove, Sheppard and Ronon took positions on each side of the bow, while Carson nudged the large vessel against the shore. Leaving Sheppard at the helm, the others gathered the anchors and equipment and spent the next thirty minutes pounded anchors into the ground.

When the trio climbed back aboard, Sheppard broke out in laughter at Rodney, who was red-faced, sweaty, covered in sand. "Rodney, you okay?"

"Who the hell said this was a vacation? That's freaking hard work," he looked at his palm where a raw, reddened rope burn was evident.

Carson took Rodney's hand, making a clucking sound as he examined the injury, "Ah, laddie, how did this happen?"

"My hand was sweaty, and I slipped, tried to grab the rope, then fell." Carson led him to the sink and rinsed the blood off his hand, blotting the wound dry.

He motioned to Rodney toward the dining table, "Sit…I'm going to get my kit." As he walked out, he realized Sheppard was in the salon. "John, didn't I tell you to stay up top until Ronon was back on board to help you down?"

"Carson, stop; I'm fine. I took it slow, didn't have any trouble."

Carson stared at the colonel, then headed to his cabin muttering to himself.

After tending to Rodney's wounds, and having lunch, Carson declared it was time for fishing. Dragging out his tackle box and fishing rod, he asked, "Okay, who wants to go fishing?"

Sheppard piped up, "I'll go."

"No," Carson answered, "you are not climbing in and out of the boat. You are going to rest this afternoon, and before you asked, no…you cannot swim. Your wounds aren't healed enough yet."

Ronon, a mouth full of potato chips, mumbled, "I wanna swim."

"So it's settled, Ronon swims and stays with Sheppard, so Rodney, you are coming fishing with me."

"Ah…why me…I'll get sunburned."

"You can sit under the bimini top, out of the sun, but you are going fishing. Now, change into something cooler and let's go."

When Rodney started to complain again, he caught the look that Sheppard was giving him. He knew what that look meant, and he knew he was going fishing.

Sheppard decided he wanted to relax on the top deck. He managed to change into swim trunks, grabbed some graphic novels and with Ronon behind him, he climbed to the upper deck. Ronon then helped Carson cast off the fishing boat from its mooring alongside the houseboat. From the upper deck, Sheppard watched as Carson headed a bit further up into the cove before he dropped anchor, McKay slathering on sunscreen the entire way. Ronon busied himself sliding off the rear swim slide, enjoying the water. As the afternoon wore on, Sheppard fell asleep stretched out in a deck chair.

After he set the anchor, Carson had given Rodney a rod, baited his hook, and then gone to the front of the boat to drop his own line into the crystal-clear water. Only a few minutes passed before Rodney settled in the pilot's seat, under the canopy, the rod held loosely in his hands.

"Beckett, how long are we going to stay out here? It's hot, and I'm bored."

Beckett looked over his shoulder, "We have only been out here two hours; I've caught some trout for dinner. It's a beautiful day, clouds just beginning to roll in…just look at that sky."

"It's hot."

"It's summer, get over it. Now be quiet, you will scare off the fish. I want to catch a couple more so that we have enough fish for dinner…need lots of food to keep Ronon happy."

"He can have my dinner if that gets us back to the houseboat quicker."

Carson was about to answer when he got another bite and in a few minutes, he reeled in another good-sized trout. He baited his hook again, and dropped the line overboard.

Rodney was still holding his fishing rod lightly; when there was a slight tug on his line, he didn't react. A harder tug nearly pulled the rod from his hand, and he yelped, "Carson…I got something."

Carson had also just gotten a hit on his line, "Rodney, I'll be right there, let me get this fish in." Carson quickly brought his fish on board, and rushed to help Rodney, who was now struggling, leaning over the starboard gunwale between the metal railings.

He reached for Rodney's rod, intending on taking it from him but Rodney was leaning too far over the side. As Carson touched him, reaching around for the rod, the action startled Rodney, who jumped and started to fall overboard. He grabbed onto Carson's fishing vest, but his momentum took him over the side. Carson almost regained his footing, but couldn't get stable, and he fell into the water, Rodney's fishing rod still in his hand.

Onboard the houseboat, a loud yell, followed by another woke Sheppard with a start, "Wha…." He rose up to see Ronon rushing to the deck railing. The big man leaned on the railing and began to laugh.

Sheppard got up slowly, and joined him, "Ronon, what's going on?" Ronon pointed toward the Whaler, anchored not very far away. They could see two heads bobbing in the water.

"I got here just in time to see Beckett go over the side; it didn't appear intentional. McKay was already in the water."

Sheppard sighed deeply, "McKay's fault, no doubt. They seem okay; they're swimming toward the ladder. Oh, this is going to be good." He looked at Ronon and they both grinned broadly.

At the transom of the Whaler, Carson pulled the swim ladder down and climbed onboard. He put the rod down that he was still holding, and then looked over the stern to where Rodney was clinging on to the ladder.

"Well, come on, Rodney, climb aboard."

McKay was breathing hard, "A little help please…my hand hurts." He held up his now wet bandaged hand.

Carson dropped his head backward, then leaned over, grabbing Rodney's forearm, "If you pull me into the water again, I will not be happy."

Rodney, with some difficulty, climbed onboard. "What the hell were you doing, you startled me."

"Yes, I know…it's my fault. I think it's time we head back."

Rodney sat down on the bench, "It's about time."

Carson secured the fish he had caught before he fell overboard, then pulled up anchor, and turned the Whaler toward the houseboat.

"Oh, crap," Rodney moaned, noticing Sheppard and Ronon standing on the upper deck watching, "we are so never going to live this down."

~~ooOoo~~

Sunset was approaching and thick ominous looking clouds had moved in, dropping the temperature considerably. Carson cleaned the trout he caught, after he and Rodney had taken hot showers. The doctor/chef was now grilling the fish, and vegetable kabobs, hoping to beat the rain. Ronon was fussing about in the kitchen when Sheppard emerged from his cabin after taking a shower. McKay was curled up on one of the couches, his hand freshly bandaged, engrossed in his laptop.

Ronon turned around, "Hey, Sheppard; you okay?"

"Yeah, much better, what are you doing?"

He grinned, "Beckett's teaching me to cook. I'm doing the baked potatoes and the bread."

"Good job, Chewie, " he looked over at McKay. "So how's our diving champion?"

"Har dee har har…flyboy; it was an accident, Beckett surprised me."

"Rodney, the Whaler is the most stable, unsinkable boat out there and you fell off one."

"Bite me, I didn't want to go fishing anyhow," he retorted. He glanced at Sheppard; the colonel's face was passive, but his eyes were piercing. Rodney immediately realized what he had said.

"I know, John…I know. Each time I say that I realize how stupid I am. I should be thankful that he's here to go fishing with, I…I forget…I mean…he's here. I forget about that day…"

"It's okay; I forget too. I just think we need to remember that we got him back and not take anything for granted."

Carson came into the salon, "Dinner will be in about five minutes; how are those potatoes coming?"

"They are done and I put the bread in when you said, it should be done in a couple of minutes."

Carson patted Ronon on the back, and began to pour melted butter from a pan on the stove into two bowls and added spices. He retrieved a couple of lemons from the fridge and halving one, squeezed lemon into one of the bowls.

"Carson, what the hell are you doing…lemon? You're going to kill me."

"Relax, do ya think I'd try to kill you, Rodney. There are two bowls of butter for the fish, one with lemon and one without…I'm putting a little parsley into yours to make certain I don't get them mixed up. You're not allergic to parsley are ya?"

Sheppard had walked to the cupboard, and began to pull out plates "McKay, make yourself useful; help me set the table."

Reluctantly, McKay helped, placing the plates and silverware that Sheppard handed him on the table, then walked away.

"McKay, who taught you to set a table, you've got the silverware all wrong."

"Who are you, Martha Stewart?"

"Obviously, social skills were not in your curriculum," Sheppard fumed, as he corrected the silverware placement.

"Oh, bite me."

Carson giggled, "I think our resident scientist is getting fussy, he needs food."

"He needs something," Sheppard added sarcastically.

A few minutes later, Carson brought the fish and veggies inside, and they sat down to dinner. Through the open salon windows, the first rumble of thunder reached them.

After dinner, Ronon washed the dishes with Sheppard insisting on drying. Once they had everything put away, they decided to go on the upper deck to watch the incoming storm. It hadn't started raining yet, so they took four of the lounge chairs and put them on the open deck, next to the hot tub.

Ronon collected cold beers from the cooler, and handed them out, chuckling as Sheppard frowned at the O'Doul's he gave him.

"Carson, I'd like a real beer."

"Not yet, laddie; you've done really well today. You've only taken pills this morning and this afternoon, but you are not ready to be weaned off of them. Maybe tomorrow, we'll see if we can cut back, but only if you get a good nights sleep. I want you to take two more pills at bedtime.

"I also want to get in the hot tub."

"If your wound looks good tomorrow, I'll put some waterproof tape over the bandage, and you can get in for a while."

"Gee, thanks, Momma Carson."

"Cheeky."

They stayed on the deck for nearly two hours, chatting about their trip. Carson talked about opening some of the wine they got at the vineyard, when Sheppard could drink it, prompting Rodney to groan, remembering how drunk he and Carson had gotten. Just as the conversation got around to the Celine Dion concert, Carson reminiscing about the gorgeous, sexy blue dress Dion wore during her show, the first raindrops began to fall. Ronon sent the others inside while he secured the chairs in the storage bins, and threw the beer bottles into the trash bin. By the time, he came into the salon the rain was beginning in torrents.

Once Ronon joined them, Carson brought out the ice cream. They sat in the dimly lit salon, eating dessert and listening to the heavy rain pound on the houseboat. The almost constant low rumble of thunder, was accompanied at times by the lighting mimicking a strobe light, flashes of purple-white light brightening the salon.

Carson stood next to a window for a long time, prompting Sheppard to ask, "Penny for your thoughts, doc."

A flash of lighting illuminated Carson's face, revealing a slight smile. "I was just thinking about when I was a lad; I used to spend a few weeks during the summer with my uncle who had a summer house on Loch Fyne. He also had a houseboat and we'd go out for a few days at a time, just cruising up and down the loch. When my grandfather and father were alive, they'd go with us. My grandfather taught me to fish on one of those trips, and later, when I was older, about twelve, my uncle taught me to water-ski." He paused for a moment, but no one spoke, waiting for Carson to continue.

"The year before me dad died we were on the houseboat when an awful storm hit. The loch is a sea loch, open to the ocean. The water was very choppy; the boat was rocking back and forth, and I got scared. I guess I yelled out, and my dad came running into the salon where I was sleeping on a couch. He stayed with me the remainder of the night, calming me, telling me I needn't be worried. He told me "Mother Nature" was just kicking up her heels, having a wee bit of fun the only way she could." As a particularly bright lighting flash, followed immediately by loud clap of thunder, Carson remarked, "Looks like Mother Nature's having quite a wee party tonight."

Rodney spoke, "I remember being mesmerized by thunderstorms, wondering what caused them. I used to sneak out of the house to do 'scientific research' when I was eight or nine; my mother finally threatened to take away my chemistry set if I didn't stay inside."

Carson laughed, "So, now we know, Rodney didn't know when to come in out of the rain."

"I think he's gotten a little smarter than that, Carson. However, I grant you… he doesn't know the appropriate times to take a swim."

"Oh, you are so funny, fly boy"

Sheppard yawned, then answered, "I know…I am, aren't I?"

"John, you are getting tired, time to take your pills and go to bed."

"You know, what; I'm not going to argue with you this time. I am tired."

Within a half-hour, the men had retired to bed: Ronon, the last to turn in, as he made certain all the doors and windows were secure. Outside the storms didn't give any indication of letting up anytime soon. It wasn't long before all four were lulled to sleep by the thunder and the gentle rocking of the boat.

Sheppard snapped awake; uncertain what had awakened him, or how long he had slept. He had left his window open a tiny crack; he loved the sounds of storms and had fallen asleep quickly listening to the thunder and steady rain. He heard it again, a faint noise, different from the sounds of nature. He struggled up, and padded to the window, opening it wider, hoping he could hear the sound more clearly.

The rain was still very heavy, pounding against the boat. During the next bright lighting flash, he thought he caught something white and bright blue in the water. Then he heard the sound again, and this time, there was no doubt that it was a cry for help.

Sheppard rushed into the hall, yelling down the stairs for Ronon. He ran into the salon, to the larger windows, trying to spot where the sound was coming from. Ronon ran in, 9-mil in hand, sleepy and confused Rodney and Carson behind him.

Ronon rushed to his side, "Sheppard, what's happening?"

"I think there's someone in the water calling for help. I saw something white in the water toward the stern of the boat, and I'm pretty certain that I heard a cry for help."

Carson moved into action, "There's a spotlight on the bow. I'll shine it into the water; you see if you can see anything."

Within a couple of seconds, the bright light was shining across the water, revealed the keel and hull of a boat overturned in the water, a large hole in the hull. In the water, standing out in the bright spot light were four orange life jackets. Sheppard could make out two adults and two small children clinging to the hull.

"Ronon, we need to get them out of the water. Carson, radio the Park Rangers; Rodney, take the light and keep it on those people." He rushed out onto the front deck, pulling life jackets from the storage bin. He tossed jackets to Carson and Rodney, and was putting one on as he heard a splash. Ronon had jumped into the rough water from the upper deck, swimming toward the boat.

"Damn it, crazy bastard," Sheppard had swung a foot over the railing on the front deck, when Carson stopped him.

"No, I'm going…you stay here." Carson pushed him back, and jumped over the railing, wading into the water. Sheppard started over the railing, but Rodney pulled him back, "No, Sheppard; you can't."

Sheppard was breathing hard, "I'm going on the upper deck; I'll use the light up there to lead the rescue boats here." Before Rodney could stop him, Sheppard was gone.

The ladder was slippery from the rain, and Sheppard tripped as he stepped onto the deck. He reached out for the side of the hot tub but missed and slammed into the deck. The fall knocked the wind out of him, but he struggled up, his chest burning from the pain. He willed himself to the fly bridge where the spotlight was stored.

Once he had the light, Sheppard pointed it toward the overturned boat. Ronon was swimming toward shore. He had a woman in a lifesaving grip; she was clutching a small child. Carson had reached the boat, and was reaching for the man when the current caused by the heavy rain rushing off the rocks into the cove, broke the man's hold on the other child. The current quickly swept the boy out of his father and Carson's reach.

There was only one thing Sheppard could do, he propped the light up on the fly bridge and headed for the slide. He hit the cold water with a splash, and it took a second for him to orient himself. He yelled for the child, hoping he would get a response. In the water, sounds were more muffled; fortunately, a flash of lighting illuminated an orange object, the life jacket. Sheppard began to swim as hard as he could toward the small child.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sheppard, guided by the brief illumination from the lighting, reached the crying child. He grabbed the small boy and against the current driven by the rain, he swam for shore.

Raising his head when he took a breath, Sheppard could see the spotlight shining on the beach. The cold water was sapping what little strength he had; he wasn't certain he was going to make it to shore. As he weakened, he felt like he was going to pass out, but the faint sirens from the rescue boats kept him going, help was almost to them. Then he felt the child being pulled away from him. He was struggling, trying to keep from losing the child, when strong arms encircled him and a deep voice yelled in his ear.

"It's okay, Sheppard; Beckett's got the kid. I've got you."

Ronon, it was Ronon; Sheppard gave in to the darkness.

~~ooOoo~~

The houseboat was crowded. Several members of the Park Rangers rescue team were in the salon as the rescued family was being treated by the Ranger paramedics. Fortunately, they were not injured seriously. The father was badly bruised from trying to protect his family from debris washed into the water by the storm, and the mother and the small boy had swallowed quite a bit of water, but they were going to be fine. The older child, a little girl, was scared but unharmed.

Carson and another paramedic were in Sheppard's cabin, tending to the unconscious colonel. The paramedic had helped Beckett get Sheppard out of the wet clothes and under the bedcovers. A Park police officer had joined them, and Ronon and Rodney were waiting worriedly by the door.

The paramedic was taking Sheppard's blood pressure, "Blood pressure's great considering his condition, must be in excellent shape to have those readings after this ordeal."

The police officer asked, "You say he was shot a few days ago?"

"Yes, over a week ago."

"Dr. Beckett, I'll need to check out your story. Four men on a houseboat and one of them recovering from a gunshot wound, I think you can see why I would need to investigate."

Beckett answered, "Of course I do. You can contact Detective Hank Marshall of the Las Vegas Police Department; he'll fill you in on the details." Carson pulled open a dresser drawer and took out Sheppard's military ID, handing it to the officer, who had already seen the IDs of the others.

The officer took a couple of notes and handed the ID back to Carson, "I'm sorry to have to do this, just consider it routine, doctor. Hope he does okay, that was a pretty gutsy thing for him to do, considering his injury."

"Well, if you knew him, you'd know it's just who he is, officer." The officer nodded in reply and left.

The paramedic was tucking his equipment back into his bag. "You need anything else, doctor?"

"No, laddie, he just passed out from fatigue; once he gets some rest, he'll be alright."

"Well, you know where to find us if you need us. Take care, and great job guys; that family owes their lives to you."

Another of the Rangers stuck his head in the door, "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper would like to speak to you, if that's okay."

Carson nodded, and Rodney and Ronon stepped into Sheppard's cabin; the Coopers appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Cooper's voice was trembling, "We…we don't know how to thank you. I understand that the colonel is the one who heard my yell for help. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't. We were trying to outrun the storm and get back to the marina when the boat hit a rock. I managed to get us into the cove, and tried to get close to land so I could ground the boat, but took on too much water, and she sank, then overturned. You put yourselves in danger to save my family; I…" His voice broke and he couldn't continue.

Mrs. Cooper smiled, "We are so grateful to all of you; we would like to thank the colonel personally when he wakes up. We've left our number on the kitchen counter, please contact us, and let us know how he is doing."

"We will…I promise. Don't worry, Colonel Sheppard will be fine."

Ronon walked out behind the Coopers; but Rodney stopped at the doorway, "Carson, is he going to be okay?"

"Aye, Rodney…don't you know…the hero always survives."

As the rain continued, Carson watched out the window in Sheppard's cabin as the rescue boats pulled away with the Cooper family. He could smell coffee brewing and smiled; Ronon, no doubt, he was learning to make coffee as well. They were going to need it. It was going to be a long night watching over Sheppard once again.

 

 _End of Road Trip: Part Four_

 _Lake Mead, Gone Fishin' Days One and Two_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Lake…uh…Loch…Mead days to come….soon. Thanks so much for you patience, I'll try not to let this much time pass before the next installment. Anxious to hear what you think about their Lake Mead adventure. Thanks for reading!!!


	7. Part Four  Lake Mead Gone Fishing Day 3 to 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we left our guys, they had just rescued a family during a violent storm. Now they are dealing with the aftermath of the rescue and planning for the rest of their stay at Lake Mead. Now the question is will Carson get to fish, and can they avoid trouble for the rest of their trip? Enjoy!

**Lake Mead Gone Fishing….Day 3 – 6**

 **Day 3**

 _By stella_pegasi_

Rain had been falling steadily all night; in the distance, intermittent thunderstorms continued to rumble angrily. The massive houseboat rocked back and forth as the wind pushed lake water into the cove, meeting the rain running off the rocky hillsides. Carson Beckett sat in the dark in Sheppard's cabin, watching over his injured friend.

When Carson had insisted on sitting with Sheppard, Ronon brought a comfortable chair from the living room for him to sit in. The gentle swaying of the boat had lulled the doctor to sleep more than once, the thunder awakening him each time. Rodney and Ronon wanted to stay with them, but Carson eventually convinced the pair to get some sleep, although he assumed Ronon was wide-awake waiting to see if he needed anything.

Sheppard had been resting quietly; Carson suspected from sheer exhaustion. It was enough that he was recovering from a serious gunshot wound, but he had to overtax his body by jumping into the rough water, swimming against the current. Carson was well aware how exhausted he was from being in the water, and although Sheppard was in much better physical shape normally, he couldn't imagine how badly the colonel's heroics had set back his recovery.

Carson was returning from the galley with a mug of coffee from the pot Ronon made earlier, when he heard a soft groan. He turned on a small wall sconce and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"John, you awake, lad?"

"Ummm…I….yeah…awake," Sheppard's voice was raspy, feeble, ebbing with each word.

"Are you in pain, John, or thirsty?"

"T-thirsty…chest hurts…"

"Aye, laddie, I imagine it does; well, don't worry, I'll give you something for the pain."

The fact that Sheppard didn't argue about taking pain meds, told Carson he was either in considerable pain or too exhausted to care; most likely, a little of both. As he reached for his medical bag intending to get his stethoscope, Ronon appeared in the doorway; he had been awake as Carson imagined he was.

"Is he okay, doc?"

"I think so, says his chest is hurting, and he's thirsty. Could you get a glass of cool water for me?"

Ronon nodded and headed to the galley, while Carson checked Sheppard's respirations. He wasn't certain how much water his patient had breathed in while swimming. He was hoping that the chest pain was predominantly from muscle spasms.

By the time Ronon returned, Carson was slightly less concerned than he had been about the potential for Sheppard developing pneumonia. His lungs sounded clear; his heart rate was normal, and his blood pressure, although a bit high was satisfactory. The elevated blood pressure was probably a result of the pain.

"John, let's get you a drink of water," Sheppard made a sound similar to uh huh. Carson lifted his head, allowing him a few sips of water. "Okay, you need to rest; I'm going to give you shot to help the pain, then back to sleep with you laddie."

After he gave Sheppard the injection, Carson turned off the sconce, and the room was dark once again, flashes of lighting flitting about the sky the only illumination. As he settled in the chair, he could hear the sound of soft breathing, not coming from his patient but from the hallway.

Carson whispered to the big Satedan, "Ronon, go to bed; we're fine here."

"No, you might need me."

"Laddie, I always need you, but I'm gonna need you later this morning. I want to stay with John these first few hours just to make certain we don't have any surprises. But I'm gonna need to sleep, at some point. I would rather you be awake later to help Rodney keep an eye on him."

"I'm okay doc; I can do both."

Carson smiled to himself, thankful for the darkness so that Ronon wouldn't think he was laughing at him. He was smiling because these were the most devoted people he had ever worked with; but Rodney needed Ronon's quiet strength more than he did. He rose from the chair and walked to the doorway. A flash of lighting revealed Ronon sitting on the floor, his back to the far wall.

"Ronon, Rodney is very upset about John's injury. He believes this is his fault; that John wouldn't be hurt if he hadn't gotten into trouble, and once again, it was Colonel Sheppard to the rescue."

"Wasn't McKay's fault."

"No, it wasn't, but convincing that pig-headed fool is another story. I need you to be rested and alert while I sleep. Rodney will be nervous as long as John seems weak, and I'm afraid our friend is going to be weaker after tonight's events. Go to bed, I promise I will wake you up in a few hours. John's resting comfortably; he'll be fine, will just take some time. Now off with you, get some sleep."

Reluctantly, Ronon agreed and headed down the stairs to his cabin. Carson returned to his chair, and as he listened to Sheppard's even breathing, he realized they all were unsettled when Sheppard was hurt. With all the dangers they faced in Pegasus, Sheppard's presence was their salvation, stalwart, never becoming excited, keeping a level head in the direst of situations, ready to give his life to protect them all. When he wasn't able to provide that haven of security to them, it was understandable that they felt nervous. However, Sheppard needed strength from them now, and they were going to provide it; they owed their friend at least that and more. Sheppard always came to their rescue when they needed it, and they returned the favor by rescuing him from himself. Settling in the chair Carson wondered if, for once, they could simply have a few days of quiet.

~~ooOoo~~

Slowly, Sheppard stirred, first realizing he was warm, then becoming aware of the achy pain that seemed to exist in every joint and muscle, and burning pain in his chest. He opened his eyes to discover the room bathed in gray light. The gentle rocking of the houseboat seemed to be in-synch with the rain pelting the upper deck. A rustling sound caught his attention, and he turned his head to the source of the noise, Rodney.

The scientist, slouched in a chair next to the bed, moved restlessly as he slept. Despite the pain coursing through his body, Sheppard was amused; Rodney reminded him of a dog, running after prey in a dream. As he attempted to turn over on his side, he moaned and Rodney awoke with a lurch.

"What…," Rodney was breathing heavily, staring directly at him. It took the scientist a couple of seconds to realize that Sheppard was awake, but when he did, he yelled loudly for Carson.

"Crap…Rodney, no need to y-yell," Sheppard scrunched up his face, turning from the harsh sound. It was that pained face Carson saw when he entered the cabin.

As he reached for his medical kit, Carson asked, "Laddie, are you hurting that badly?"

Sheppard relaxed his face, "No…Rodney's yelling is worse than the pain; I think he broke my eardrum."

Carson frowned at Rodney, "Would you go get John some water please?"

"Sorry…I didn't mean to yell; I was just surprised he was awake." Rodney rushed out of the room, nearly running over Ronon.

Sheppard sighed, "What time is it?"

"It's a little past 1500 hours; you've slept for a long time. Now lie still, I want to check your vitals, and your wound." Sheppard complied and after examining him, Carson sat back, smiling. "Well, your wound has healed enough that nothing tore during your little swim; and your lungs remain clear. I think you simply need rest and pain management."

"That family…they okay?"

"Yes, they're fine, and extremely grateful that you heard their yells for help. Honestly, I'm not certain they would have survived if you hadn't. The storms worsened once the rescue boats left; that family was in real danger of dying."

Rodney had returned with a glass of water, which Carson took from him, "Here, John, a few sips of water, then I'll give you a shot for that pain." He helped Sheppard drink a bit, then reached for a syringe and vial.

"No, just…take the edge off, I don't wanna sleep anymore; however, I would like to go to the bathroom."

"Okay," Carson said, and began to pull the covers away from him; it was then Sheppard realized he was naked. The colonel grabbed the bedcovers from Carson's grip, "Hey; I'm naked, get me some pants."

Rodney grunted, "Well it's not like we all haven't seen you naked."

Sheppard felt heat flush across his face, suspecting his face was turning crimson, "Maybe so, but I'm not usually aware of it. I'm usually unconscious, and in the infirmary. I am not unconscious now…pants."

Carson snickered, as he handed a pair of track pants to Sheppard, "Well, I'm your doctor so seeing you naked is within my purview." Turning to the others, "Out, let our shy colonel dress without an audience."

After helping Sheppard get the track pants on, Carson called Ronon to assist the grumpy colonel across the hall to the bathroom. Before he came out, Carson passed a shirt to Ronon and then told him to help Sheppard into the salon.

After settling on one of the couches; Sheppard looked out the salon windows; the rain was still falling heavily, but the winds were calmer than last night. Rodney brought him a cup of coffee and Carson a glass of water and two pills. Frowning, Sheppard muttered, "I'm not an invalid; you don't have to wait on me."

"Quiet," Carson admonished, "Now what can I fix you to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Not the right answer, laddie; you will eat something. How 'bout a steak sandwich, there was some steak leftover."

Sheppard knew he might as well give in; the good doctor would not stop, "All right, 'Momma Carson,' I'll eat."

Carson fixed a plate with a sandwich of thin sliced sirloin piled on a whole-grain bun, a little horseradish mayo, chips, and watermelon, then put it in front of Sheppard.

"I said I'd eat, but not this much."

"Hush, eat what you can."

Ronon and Rodney were both snacking while Sheppard ate, a bit more heartily than he had thought he would. He looked over at Carson, who was fidgeting in the kitchen. "Hey, doc, this sandwich is really good."

Before Carson could answer, they felt a bump against the houseboat. Ronon immediately pulled a 9-mil from under the couch cushion where he was sitting, as Rodney looked out the window on the starboard side of the boat.

"It's a couple of Park Rangers."

Sheppard spoke quietly but sternly, "Ronon, put that gun away now." Ronon quickly slid the gun back under the cushion and sat down on it.

The Park Rangers hopped up onto the front deck of the houseboat from the bow of their boat, which they had tied off to the railing. Rodney opened the door to let them in.

One was a Park Police officer, who had been on scene the night before. He spoke, "The weather let up a bit so we thought we'd come out and check on you." He turned to Sheppard, "Colonel, good to see you awake; you were pretty out of it last night. That was some rescue you guys pulled off, it's no wonder you were wiped out after what you'd already been through." He shook Sheppard's hand, followed by the other Ranger.

"Rangers, thanks; how's the family doing?"

"Took 'em to the hospital in Vegas and had 'em checked over; they're fine, mostly scrapes and bruises. A lodge employee drove over early this morning and brought 'em back to Callville Bay. They're at the lodge now, planning on going home in a couple of days."

Carson smiled, "That's good to hear; they're a nice family."

The Ranger nodded, "Yeah they are; I also wanted to let you now that I spoke with Detective Marshall of the LVPD. He confirmed you were involved in the situation at Caesars and said that if you guys needed anything to contact him. He also mentioned that you all stopped a bunch of bikers over in Bakersfield. You've been busy for a group of guys on vacation."

"Aye, lad; it seems we've been in the wrong places at the wrong times in our travels. Then we come to the loch, and it happens again; only this time, I like to think we were in the right place at the right time."

The Ranger appeared puzzled, "Loch?"

Sheppard chuckled, "Lake…he's Scottish…don’t mind him."

Rodney harrumphed, "Why does he get by with saying weird things, and I don't?"

When the Ranger looked confused again, Sheppard laughed, "He's Canadian."

The Rangers looked at each other and nodded, as if they completely understood.

"Would either of you like some coffee or something?" Carson asked of the Rangers.

The Rangers refused, "Thanks, doctor, but we just wanted to be certain you guys were okay and let you know about the Coopers."

After the Rangers departed, the four friends settled in the salon, listening to the rain, and watching satellite television through bouts of rain fade. Soon, all four were asleep; the effects of the last night had worn all of them down.

~~ooOoo~~

Ronon woke first. Quietly, the Satedan slipped out onto the front deck of the houseboat, gazing up the rock face rising up above the narrow beach. Heavy rain was still falling, and the sky was darkening. He was concerned about the effect the constant rain was having on the anchors. Scanning the anchor lines, he was relieved to find the ropes were taut but holding under the sway of the boat and the water streaming down the rock.

Returning inside, he noticed how chilly it was in salon. Carson and Rodney appeared comfortable, but Sheppard lay on the couch, curled-up, as though he was cold. Ronon knew the colonel got cold easily, so he retrieved a blanket from Carson's room and threw it over Sheppard. Then he made coffee and sat down at the table to wait for his friends to awaken. It didn't surprise Ronon that Rodney woke up first, the aroma of coffee too alluring to the scientist.

Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, Rodney stumbled to the galley, where he poured a cup of coffee, taking a sip of the steaming hot brew. He turned in Ronon's direction, "You make this?" Ronon nodded. "Pretty good coffee, Conan; much better than that rotgut crap Zelenka makes."

Rodney grabbed a package of Oreo cookies lying on the counter and sat down at the table, prying the cookies apart he scraped off the white filling, then scarfed down the cookies separately. Ronon grabbed two cookies and ate them whole.

"You truly do not know how to enjoy these do you…Jeannie ate hers the way you do, all together. So much more fun to eat the components one at a time."

"McKay, you have some really weird habits on your world."

"Well, you seem to be enjoying it here."

Ronon thought for a minute, before he replied, "I like it here; it reminds me of Sateda."

Rodney, scraping the filling off another Oreo, mumbled, "How so?"

"We had cities, lakes, boats, cars…well, transports…they all looked the same." He sighed, "I think we would have developed to be more like Earth if we'd had a chance."

"Not so certain that would have been a good thing."

Rodney realized as soon as he closed his mouth that he had been insensitive, if Sheppard was awake, he would have let him know. However, the steely look on Ronon's face was enough to tell him he had said the wrong thing. "Sorry, I didn't mean that it was a good thing Sateda didn't have the opportunity to survive. I meant that I'm not so certain Earth is such a great role model. Sure, we have all these luxuries and all this technical stuff, but we still have war, racism, and greed. I'm not convinced how civilized we really are; some times I think that we are too much like the Alterans. The Ancients were arrogant and so self-assured they couldn't recognize, or wouldn't admit, when they were wrong; Earth is a lot like that."

"You think that Earth is really that bad?"

"I…," Rodney sighed, "No, not really. I mean considering what you, and Teyla…," he hesitated as he said Teyla's name, "and others in the Pegasus galaxy have gone through, not to mention what the people affected by the Gou'ld and the Ori have gone through in this galaxy. We haven't gone through much at all."

Ronon looked knowingly at Rodney, "Yeah…McKay…I miss her, too."

"Miss who?"

Rodney, startled, turned toward the voice, "Oh, Carson's gonna kill me, I was talking too loud."

"No, didn't hear you; woke up on my own…," Sheppard threw the blanket off and pushed himself up. He was very wobbly and Ronon jumped up to help him.

Sheppard raised his hand, "Stay there, Chewie; I'm going to the bathroom all by myself…no arguments."

Neither Rodney nor Ronon moved; they both recognized the tone in Sheppard's voice. He didn't want their help.

The two friends waited as Sheppard first went to the bathroom, then across the hall to his cabin. When he came out, he was wearing a hoodie and had slipped on his sneakers. Moving slowly, he stopped in the galley, got a mug of coffee, then returned to the couch.

"Proud of yourself, laddie?" Carson sat up in the chair he'd been napping in, an annoyed expression on his face.

Sheppard mimicked Carson's annoyed face, "I'm fine; I made it there and back without any trouble. Even got a cup of coffee for myself." Sheppard was hoping Carson didn't notice that his hand was trembling; the effort had sapped his meager energy.

Carson stood up, "It’s after 1900 hours, I think dinner is in order. How does something Italian sound? I was hoping for more fish tonight but since there was no fishing today, I think we'll have salad, spaghetti and meatballs, along with a loaf…" looking at Ronon, he grinned, "make that two loaves of garlic bread. Ronon, let's cook."

"I can help," Sheppard said, causing Carson to whirl around, hands-on-hips.

"Colonel, you sit there and be quiet." He turned to Rodney, "You can set the table in a bit."

About forty minutes later, the four friends sat down to eat, all of them hungrier than they imagined. Sheppard watched as Ronon dived in for seconds. He grinned at Carson, "Hey, doc, not certain you made enough spaghetti?" He jerked his head toward Ronon.

Carson laughed, pointing to Rodney's who was taking his third piece of garlic bread, "I'm beginning to think I might not have."

Ronon grinned, "The spaghetti's good."

Rodney attempted to reply with a mouthful of bread, but his words were garbled, causing everyone else to laugh, Rodney eventually joining in.

After dinner, Ronon and Rodney, who didn't need prodding, washed dishes while Sheppard and Carson watched a bit of cable news. It was still drizzling, but the thunderstorms had passed as the friends settled in, watching television. Realizing the events of the past twenty-four hours had taken a toll on all of them, they turned in early.

Carson woke when he heard a noise in the hallway; he glanced at his watch; it was 0418 hours. Suspecting that Sheppard was making a bathroom run, he waited for the colonel's return. After a few minutes, he heard the bathroom door open, but instead of hearing Sheppard's bedroom door close, he heard the telltale squeak of the door leading to the tiny back platform and the upper deck. Sighing, he got up, threw on a pair of pants, shoes, and grabbed a sweatshirt; time to check on his friend.

The rain had stopped, and the sky was beginning to clear. Splotches of glittering stars peeked through the dark clouds that remained. Carson stepped up on the deck; the only light from the soft glow cast by the tube lights that encircled the railing. He was slowly making his way toward the bar area when a deep voice interrupted the silence.

"Checking up on me, doc?"

"You keep this up, and I'll tie a bell around your neck."

"Go back to bed, Carson; I'm fine."

"I'm not sleepy anymore, I'll stay."

"Fine, as long as you don't ask me how I'm feeling."

Carson pulled another deck chair from storage and sat it close to Sheppard's, "So I won't ask, you can just tell me."

Sheppard laughed, "You are a cheeky bastard, aren't you."

"That's my line, Colonel Sheppard; besides you should remember the pecking order around here. You injured; me in charge."

"And I thought McKay was the only person with delusions of grandeur."   
Sheppard sighed as Carson chuckled, and continued, "To keep you from pestering me, I actually feel a bit better. I slept pretty hard yesterday; who knows maybe that swim stretched out the kinks."

"I hardly think so, John. I just think you finally got a long bout of rest." He noticed Sheppard rubbing his chest, "Your chest hurting?"

"Um…don't miss much do you; yep, it hurts, mostly from the staples, when the hell can you take them out?"

"I checked your wound yesterday. It's been over ten days since you were shot, I might consider taking them out tomorrow…uh today; we'll see."

"Good, I'm tired of this shit."

"Well, laddie, I will say this, trouble does seem to follow us."

"I was thinking it's just me," Sheppard scoffed.

"There is no arguing that you are a trouble magnet, Colonel John Sheppard. I don't think I've ever had a patient, who required me to ask which volume number we are on when I pull your medical charts. However, let's see, our little group consists of Rodney, who we know can get into trouble just by opening his mouth, Ronon, who wades into trouble without thinking. Then there's me, I seem to attract the absolute worst of the bad guys." Carson took a deep breath, "At least the other Carson did; I seem to have avoided that problem."

Sheppard hid the sharp intake of breath that hit him; Carson rarely talked about what had happened to him at Michael's hand. He also knew that he, Rodney, and Ronon were too chicken to bring it up; they all assumed Teyla had taken care of dealing with Carson's emotional needs. His voice was somewhat shaky, but he decided to ask.

"Uh…Carson, how…how…," Sheppard was spared from continuing, when Carson finished his question.

"How am I dealing with being a clone? I'm dealing with it just fine, laddie; take my medication everyday, have regular checkups. Things are pretty much back to normal, as far as normal goes."

"You know we don't really think about it much; I mean it's like you were never gone."

"Aye, I know…except I have memories of nearly two years of Michael, and you have memories of my death, neither very pleasant. It's much easier to put it all behind us."

"Well, I'm certainly not one to talk; I've been doing that all my life." Sheppard got up, turned on a light over the bar area and opened one of the ice chests. "Damn, these chests are good, still some cold beer and ice in here." He grabbed a couple, flipped the light off, and returned to the lounge chair.

"Here," Sheppard handed a beer to Carson.

"Tell me you have an O'Doul's, John."

"I have an O'Doul's, in a Budweiser bottle," before Carson could complain he continued, "Don't sweat it. It's been five hours since I took any pain pills; I can hold off for a while. I need a real beer."

"I suppose if anyone deserves it, you do."

Sheppard took a long swig of the cold beer, "Ummm…now that hits the spot." He took another drink, then asked, "Are you really able to put what happened behind you?"

"Do you remember that nice restaurant we went to after seeing Celine Dion?"

"Yeah, the food was really good, nice place."

"You teased me about turtle soup, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I teased you about turtles making good soup after you went on about your 'wee turtles' on the return trip…." Sheppard stopped, "Oh crap, that wasn't you." He dropped his head against the chair, "I can't believe I didn't…sorry, Carson."

"No, laddie, don't say you're sorry. It's when things like that happen that I realize that life has gone on for me and that all of you accept me back as if I were the real Carson Beckett."

"You are the real Carson Beckett."

Beckett chuckled, "Aye, laddie; at least, I'm the only one here. Sometimes when you talk about the things that happened during that time, I can deal with it, because all of you spent so much time trying to fill me in on even the smallest details of those last few months before…before the explosion. It's not having a memory of Elizabeth's loss that causes me the most difficulty. Even with all the retelling of those events, well, I haven't been able to come to terms with that yet."

"Hell, Carson, I was there, and I still can't come to terms with her loss. Fact is that we have been through so much, seen so much, that it's almost overwhelming; we have to compartmentalize and move on."

"John, how do you do it? How do you deal with the responsibility of all those souls on Atlantis? You may have broad shoulders, but that's a heavy burden."

Sheppard was reluctant to answer, but he felt he owed Carson Beckett the respect of doing so. "If I didn't tell you that it scares the crap out of me every day I'd be lying to you. After my mother died, my dad didn't want anything to do with me. Miss Gilly's always been convinced that he couldn't bear to look at me because I looked just like my mother, and he was devastated by her death. For whatever reason, I never felt good enough, and I rebelled against him and every other authority figure in my life. Then I met General O'Neill, then you, and found out this little secret that the Air Force had been keeping. But I still thought I was a failure, that first year on Atlantis, well, killing your commanding officer is frowned upon."

"John, you have proven yourself time and time again to be an excellent commander. You should be proud; we are proud of you."

Sheppard felt his face flush with heat, thankful Carson could barely see him. "Never been able to see myself that way; spent too many years being told I was a failure. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm a good pilot; I'm not stupid, and that I've been lucky. I also have an exceptional team around me. Hard not to be good when you guys, Lorne, Woolsey, all the others, have my back."

"Yeah, there's a surprise, who knew Woolsey would be such a good fit for Atlantis? I was shocked to find him there when I came out of stasis. Someone from the IOA in command, I thought we were doomed."

"I thought so as well. He's surprised me, but Woolsey's a smart man, Carson, and a fair man. Smart enough to realize that we may try to apply the rules, as we know them, but those rules didn't include dealing with the Wraith, the Ori, the Gou'ld…, or Michael. It didn't take long for Woolsey to understand what has to be done." Sheppard sighed deeply, once again rubbing his chest.

"Getting tired, lad?"

Sheppard didn't answer immediately, reluctant to tell Carson the truth, finally he spoke, "Yeah that burst of energy didn't last long."

"Let's get you back to your cabin. The weather reports said that tomorrow would be sunny and hot; a good day for fishing."

 

 **Day Four**

Carson had been right, as Sheppard opened his eyes, he saw that the sun was shining brightly through the window in his cabin. He was comfortable lying in the queen-sized bed, although the mattress was a bit softer than he liked, but he enjoyed the cocoon-like feeling of sinking into the softness. Daring to stretch, he felt the stiffness in his arms and legs as his muscles protested the movement.

Sheppard ventured to take a deep breath, anticipating the pain, and he wasn't disappointed; pain radiated from the location of the bullet wound. He took some solace in the fact that the pain was less intense than it had been. There might be a possibility that he could salvage this vacation yet.

He threw back the covers and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed, chuckling as he realized he was dressed for once. He remembered saying good night to Carson, then falling into the bed, not bothering with the blanket. Someone had covered him up at some point, most likely the good doctor. Sheppard shook his head; he had invited Carson to join them because he was their friend, it was just lucky he was also a doctor. They seemed to need one wherever they went.

He slipped on his sneakers and headed for the salon after a pit stop. He found Rodney curled up on one of the couches, immersed in his laptop. Sheppard entered the salon in stealth mode, standing only a couple of feet from the distracted scientist when he spoke.

"Rodney, you working again?"

McKay yelped, nearly dropping his laptop as he jumped. When he recovered, he replied, sputtering, "What the…what…that was uncalled for. You could have made a tiny bit of noise instead of scaring the hell out of me." He sat up, "When did you get up?"

Sheppard walked over to the galley and poured a cup of coffee, "Just now." He looked at his watch, "Damn it's 1000 hours…I can't believe I slept that long. Where are Carson and Ronon?"

"Carson wanted to go fishing, so he and Ronon left around 0700, said they'd be back around noon. Carson left you pain pills on the table, said they wouldn't make you drowsy, and that I was to make you take them. Also, there are doughnuts on the table if you're hungry."

Grabbing a couple of doughnuts, Sheppard stared at the pills lying on a napkin next to the doughnut box. Hesitating, then deciding it was better to take them, mostly because Rodney would whine all morning if he didn't, he grabbed the pills and headed for the other couch, snatching the remote control on the way.

He took the pills, then a big bite from a doughnut before he asked, mumbling a bit, "Rodney, what are you working on? That's not Atlantis stuff, is it?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full. No, it's not…just some stuff."

"Some 'stuff', that's descriptive coming from a Mensa member."

"Oh, bite me, Sheppard."

"You're in a great mood today, someone piss you off?" Then it dawned on Sheppard, "You spoke to Radek this morning, didn't you?"

Rodney looked over at him, frowning, "Yes…I spoke to Radek."

"And…?" When Rodney didn't answer, Sheppard added, "Don't make me threaten you to get it out of you, what's wrong?"

"Nothing…nothing really, it's just, Radek said that the Area 51 guys have requested more time on Atlantis. They are attempting to determine how to retro engineer the stardrive and they want more time to study it."

"Well, we aren't going anywhere anytime soon, so what's the harm in letting them look at the stardrive a bit longer. Some of those guys on the 51 team are rocket scientists, literally, they might be able to figure out how it works."

The higher pitch in Rodney's voice revealed his exasperation, "We know how it works; the question is where we get the power to make it work. Atlantis stardrive is a lot more powerful than the Asgard drive. First, the drive on Atlantis is pushing a whole lot more weight, and second, the power source, the Zed PM, is much more powerful than the Asgard engines. I just don't want them messing where they don't understand. Those guys are idiots."

"They're our idiots, Rodney; let them do their jobs." Sheppard turned on the TV and found a rerun of CSI, "Put the laptop down and relax, watch this show with me."

About thirty minutes later, Sheppard was regretting that invitation. Rodney had been relentlessly trashing the forensic science. Finally, Sheppard had enough, "Rodney, shut up and enjoy the show…stop trying to analyze everything. Can't you just suspend reality for a while and enjoy something? Just stop criticizing and watch Marg Helgenberger, the redhead, she more fun than the story."

He wasn't certain if Rodney had taken his advice, but at least there were no more critiques coming from his companion. They were almost through another episode when they heard the sound of a boat motor approaching. Rodney jumped up and looked out the window. "It's Carson and Ronon."

A few minutes later they felt a bump as Carson nudged the Whaler against the houseboat's hull. He and Ronon came into the cabin, both slightly sunburned but grinning. Carson was holding a couple of large white paper bags, and Ronon was carrying a cooler.

Carson was excited, "We caught a lot of trout this morning, so we went up to the marina where we cleaned the fish at one of the cleaning stations. We are going to have a feast tonight." As Ronon pulled out plastic bags full of fish fillets and put them in the refrigerator, Carson began pulling wrapped sandwiches from the white bags, as the aroma of grilled hamburgers floated throughout the salon.

"The restaurant at the marina was grilling burgers outside today. There's a fishing tournament starting tomorrow, so all these people are arriving; it's really getting festive at the dock. Come on, let's eat; I'm famished and I know Ronon is, although he ate a hamburger on the way back here."

Carson piled several burgers on one platter, along with fresh-grilled corn-on-the-cobs on another, and a couple of large paper boats of fries in the center of the table. Ronon grabbed beers for everyone, an O'Doul's for Sheppard.

Sheppard sat down at the table, frowning at his beer, "Quite the spread, Carson, looks good."

"Yeah, the aroma of all those burger's cooking was too much; had to have some. When did you get up, laddie?"

"Around 10 and before you ask, I took the pills, and I feel better," he flashed a cheeky grin at Carson, who flashed a cheeky grin back at the colonel.

They dove into the delicious burgers without talking for several minutes. Ronon had consumed two burgers, along with pile of fries, and two corn-on-the-cobs before he spoke. Grinning he said, "Now that's good food."

Carson feigned indignation and hurt, "You like this food; I suppose that means that you don't like my cooking."

Ronon appeared stunned, "No…no…I like your cooking, I didn't mean…," before he could continue, Carson started laughing, then Sheppard and Rodney joined in.   
Ronon began to laugh when he realized that Carson was teasing him.

"Ah, laddie, I couldn't resist. I also agree with you; I love these burgers…nothing better than that char-grilled taste."

Sheppard, between bites of burger, asked, "So, there's a fishing tournament?" Carson nodded, and Sheppard smiled, "Why don't you enter?"

"I…I…," he stopped and beaming said, "you're right I should enter; it would be fun."

"You came here to fish, so you should fish. Have you ever entered a tournament before?"

"Oh, as a lad on a lark…nothing as serious as I know these bass anglers are. They spend thousands of dollars on equipment, and live and breathe this sport; lots of money to make if someone is good at it, though. I have a feeling that I'll get laughed out at with my puny tackle, but it'll still be fun."

Sheppard smiled, "Go for it, Carson."

"I'll head back to the marina this afternoon and enter. However, I want to check your incision before I go."

After finishing lunch, Carson took a shower, changed into his non-fishing clothes, and was examining Sheppard's wound before he left for the marina.

"John, I think the staples need to stay in at least another day or two. I would feel more comfortable about you not tearing things if we wait." Seeing the look on Sheppard's face, he said, "Look, I know you want them out, but I want you well-healed. However, I will allow you to get in the hot tub if you want; I think your muscles would benefit from a good soaking."

"Thanks, I've really wanted to get in that hot tub."

"But only if Ronon is with you, and I don't want you to stay in too long; you could get dizzy. I went up before I took a shower and turned it on, so the water should have heated up by now. Cover your incision with this waterproof bandage when you get in, then dry off as soon as you are out and apply this antibiotic cream over the area. Probably not necessary, but it'll make me feel better."

"I'll do it; I promise," Sheppard was putting his shirt back on.

"Okay, then…I'll be back in probably about two hours."

"Wait, two things, take Rodney with you, he's been moping around here all day after he spoke to Radek this morning. He needs a change of scenery."

"Any problems on Atlantis?"

"No, but you know Rodney, nothing short of being there makes him happy."

"He's gonna whine, but I'll take him."

Carson was about to open the cabin door when Sheppard grabbed his arm, "Hang on."

Sheppard opened the top drawer of the dresser, taking out his billfold. He pulled out the Centurion card and handed it to Carson. "Take this and go to the tackle shop and get a good rod and reel and all the stuff that you need for the tournament."

"John, I can pay for my own things."

"I know that; however, that equipment is not cheap. If you use this card, they aren't likely to call your card company, and find out that you haven't used it in several years. Besides, I put the houseboat rental on this card, so if they have any questions, tell them check with the rental company; they know you. We'll settle up the bill later."

"Okay, that makes sense; I'll do that."

~~ooOoo~~

Carson had been correct, Rodney had whined about going to the Marina with him, and had been quite sullen, as they took the boat out of the cove. Once they were in the open water of the lake, Carson took pity on him, and turned the Whaler over to Rodney. As they approached the breakwater opening into the marina, Rodney appeared shocked that Carson allowed him to take the boat into the marina basin and dock the craft.

Carson registered for the amateur division of the tournament, after he picked up his packet of tournament rules and a gift bag, he found Rodney. The scientist was sitting on a bench outside the pro shop, looking totally lost.

"Carson, you really enjoy this? These people are…"

"These people are from all walks of life, Rodney. While I was waiting to register, I met three guys, one's a psychiatrist, one a manager of a trucking company, one an accountant; all walks of life. This is a hobby, a passion, something fun, a diversion from the lives we all lead. Some of these other guys are professional bass fishermen, who make their living doing these tournaments; they are the hardcore."

"Seems trivial way to spend your life if you ask me," Rodney crossed his arms, glowering.

"That's only because you don't have a hobby."

"I have hobbies…." He paused, as though he was groping for an answer, "I like to race model cars."

"That's only after John bought a couple and asked you if you wanted to race one."

Rodney frowned, "I like it."

"Yeah, I know you do…once you realized how much fun it was. But I suspect you were reluctant and only joined John because he cajoled you into trying. See what happens when you open your mind to new things?"

"He doesn't know I modified mine."

"He still beats you though, doesn't he?"

Rodney sighed, "Yeah."

"Come on, let's go inside, time to get some new gear."

Carson felt like a kid in a candy shop, due to the tournament the pro shop brought in new inventory of rods and reels, and the fisherman in the Scottish doctor took over. While he was selecting the new gear, Rodney was shopping around the store. By the time Cason finished, Rodney was standing at the counter, a large shopping bag in hand.

"What in the world did you find in here to buy?"

Rodney smirked, "Stuff."

Shaking his head, Carson began to check out, then handed Sheppard's credit card to the clerk, quietly explaining the situation. The tackle shop manager remembered Carson from the day he and Ronon came down to check out the boat, and told the clerk everything was fine. As the clerk was wrapping everything up, a couple of guys who were in the shop came over to Carson and Rodney. The shorter of the two men spoke first.

"Hey, man, that's some good equipment you got there; you fishing in the tournament?"

Carson smiled, "Only in the amateur division."

The other man, who was quite tall and burly, said, "Some pretty fancy equipment for an amateur; Shimano and Daiwa's best reels and you got the best American Rodsmiths and Cabela rods you can get. Nice rigs."

"Every little advantage helps, even for an amateur, laddies."

The shorter man, who was of much slighter build than his companion, asked Rodney, "You fishing?"

Rodney shook his head no, "Not my thing."

"Not a sportsman I take it," the shorter of the two men asked him. Rodney simply shook his head no, again.

The tall man smacked Carson on the back, hard enough to cause Carson to stumble, "Good luck, man."

The two strangers left the shop, and within a few minutes, Carson and Rodney left as well. They stopped at the small grocery store to get more beer and snacks along with more bacon and eggs. When Carson bought six dozen eggs, Rodney was curious and asked, why so many eggs. Carson laughing replied because he underestimated the number of eggs Ronon could consume in one meal. A grocery clerk offered to help them carry everything to the Whaler, and once loaded the two Atlantians headed for the houseboat.

~~ooOoo~~

John Sheppard was a happy man. After a long soak in the hot tub, he stretched out on a lounge chair soaking up the sun, iPod buds in his ears, and a fake beer on the deck next to him. Ronon had gone swimming in the lake, and was now lying in a chair next to him, asleep.

Sheppard was warm and drowsy, as he drifted off, he thought, "Now this is a vacation."

The sound of a boat motor woke both Sheppard and Ronon, and Ronon went down to the main deck to help Carson and Rodney aboard with their parcels. Once they put the food away, the three joined Sheppard on the upper deck.

"Well, you look comfy, laddie."

"First time I've been really warm, since we arrived. The hot tub was wonderful, feel much better. Now what did you buy?"

Carson showed off all of his new gear, as he began to put everything together. Sheppard, who knew a little about fishing, was impressed with the equipment.

"Some nice reels here; you should do well tomorrow."

"I'll at least have fun, whether I catch any fish or not." He laid down one of the rods, picking up one of the others. "By the way, I rented another boat for tomorrow; I didn't want you guys to be without a boat while I was out."

"Good thinking."

"They didn't have a big Whaler, so I'll take this one tomorrow. They assigned me a partner, and I told him I'd supply the boat. Rodney can go over with me and bring the other one back."

McKay mumbled, "What time do you have to check in? Didn't I hear that guy say something about 6:30 am?" Carson confirmed the time, and Rodney, whined, "That's damn early."

"Rodney, you make your scientists meet with you every morning at 0600 hours, not going to hurt you to get up and take Carson over in the morning."

Rodney made a face at Sheppard's remark, "That's work but this…yeah; I'll go with him in the morning."

Sheppard noticed the bag Rodney had sat behind his chair, "What'd you buy, Rodney; something for Madison?"

Sheepishly, he opened the bag, "I just got a few things." He pulled out a straw lifeguard hat with fishing lures attached and tossed it to Ronon; next, a blue visor that he threw to Sheppard, and he gave sport wristbands to both men. He then pulled out a fishing vest, handing it to Carson.

"Rodney, this is the vest I looked at and decided not to buy. This is a really nice one, but I have one."

"The clerk said this one would be cooler since its mesh, so I got it for you. It's hot out here."

Carson smiled, "Thanks, Rodney...this is really nice."

"Thanks for the visor, marine camo of another sort, a fish camo pattern with added sunshield…cool." Sheppard slipped on the visor and the wristband.

"Yeah, well I figured that you wouldn't want a hat, because it would mess up your hair."

Ronon put on his wide-brimmed straw hat and grinned, "This is cool."

"It fits? I was worried about all that hair."

Carson was trying on his vest, "Did you get yourself something?"

Rodney pulled a tan cap with an embroidered marlin on it, "Yeah. And I got this for Madison." He pulled a child's fishing vest from the bag, "I figured a little girl could find things to put in all these pockets."

Sheppard laughed, "You're a good man, Rodney; I don't care what people say about you."

Rodney looked hurt, "Wha…?"

Ronon got up and gave Rodney a big bear hug, "Sheppard's kidding, McKay."

Dinner that night consisted of freshly grilled fish, more corn-on-the-cob that Carson bought when he returned to the marina, accompanied by lots of fish stories from Carson and Ronon. After clean up, Sheppard and Carson poured over the lake's navigational maps and the latest fishing reports to plan Carson's day. Everyone helped Carson get his gear ready before they called it a night.

 

 **Day Five**

Sheppard woke fleetingly when he heard voices, then felt the houseboat rock as Rodney and Carson pushed off. The Whaler's motor started a distance from the houseboat. Carson no doubt rowed them away before starting the motor to keep from waking him. As the din of the motor faded, he heard a loud splash, Ronon taking an early morning swim in the lake. Sheppard drifted back to sleep.

Some time later, the smell of bacon and coffee woke him, and realized he was actually hungry. He gingerly stretched his body, and although he felt twinges of pain, he was relieved that the burning sensation in his chest was nearly gone. He took a deep breath and didn't feel like his chest was going to explode. Feeling more encouraged about his recuperation than he had in days, Sheppard got out of bed, dressed, and headed across the hallway to the head.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found Ronon about ready to scramble eggs. "Chewie, need some help there, buddy?"

Hey, Sheppard; no, got everything under control."

"Better watch out, I'm going to tell Cookie to put you to work when we get back to Atlantis."

"Be better than that drivel we get served." Rodney mumbled.

"Carson got off on his fishing jaunt okay?"

"Yeah, he met up the guy he was paired with yesterday, and they took off. He said to expect him back about mid-afternoon; weigh-in, whatever that is, was earlier for the amateur division."

"He's going to be one happy guy when he gets back, whether he catches fish or not."

Ronon announced breakfast was ready. After they ate, Rodney started to pull out his pad, but Sheppard said, "No, time for some mindless fun. We're going swimming. Get your trunks on and come up top."

"Sheppard, I don't want to go swimming."

"You can swim?"

Testily, McKay replied, "Yes."

"Then it's settled; you're going swimming."

By mid-morning, the three were on the upper deck; Ronon dove into the water off the boat, while Sheppard opted for the slide. He knew he would be in enough trouble with Beckett for swimming, much less, diving into the water. When he surfaced, Sheppard looked back up at Rodney, who was standing by the slide.

"Come on, Rodney; it's only cold for a minute."

"Cold; I don't like cold."

"Down the slide."

Rodney's shoulders dropped as the realization that he was not getting out of swimming. He climbed onto the slide and dropped into the lake, making a big splash.

After swimming for a while, Sheppard became fatigued and began to tread water to conserve his energy. Within a few seconds, Ronon swam up beside him. "You need to get out."

"I'm fine, just getting my second wind." Ronon just stared at him. Sheppard sighed, "Okay I'll get out."

Rodney followed him out of the lake, and they both got into the hot tub to warm up. After ten minutes, an exhausted but satisfied Sheppard dropped onto a lounge chair and fell asleep.

"Sheppard, wake up."

Groggily, Sheppard slowly opened his eyes, in response to whoever was pushing on his shoulder to wake him up. "Wha…" A shadowy outline was all he could make out. He pushed up, nearly bumping heads with the shadow, which turned out to be Rodney.

"What do you want? In case you hadn't noticed, I was asleep."

"Time you woke up, there's food."

"Just what part of 'I was asleep' did you not understand?"

"Ronon brought food; I figured you were hungry. Besides, if you're crashed out when Beckett gets back, he'll be pissed that we let you do too much."

Sheppard reluctantly sat up, "Oh…I see. You're not worried about me; it's your own hide you're worried about."

"You want to piss him off?"

Sighing, Sheppard slowly rose from the lounger surprised, he wasn't as sore as he expected from swimming; in fact, he felt stronger. "No, I don't."

A platter of ham and turkey, along with a loaf of bread sat on the bar. Sheppard was hungry but he didn't want to admit it to Rodney. He made a turkey sandwich, grabbed a real beer, and returned to his chair. "When's Beckett due back?"

"He said his weigh-in was around 1:30, it's that now."

"Already? I must have slept for three hours."

Ronon came up from the lower deck, carrying a bag of chips, which he tossed to Sheppard. "You did, needed it. Could hardly keep McKay from waking you up."

"So, Rodney, enjoy your swim?" Sheppard asked.

"No…well, that's not true, I actually feel more energized."

"Thought you would, except for Chewie here, we all needed some physical activity. I don't know about the rest of you, but now that Carson has had the opportunity to get the fishing in he wanted, I think we need to decide where we want to go next."

Rodney opened his mouth, "I vote we retu…"

Sheppard stopped him with one word, "No."

"What if I was going to say return to Vegas?"

"You weren't and not going to; we've got just under two weeks left, so we need to explore more of the US."

"Three."

"What do you mean three?"

"Uh…when I talked to Radek yesterday, Woolsey had a message for you. He and Landry decided since we were kind of stuck in Vegas for a week while you were in the hospital and since Area 51 asked for more time, Landry extended our leave for another week."

"And you were going to tell me this when?"

"Now."

"McKay…"

Ronon spoke up, "So, does this mean we can go to where Wyatt Earp lived?"

Sheppard was glaring at McKay, while he answered Ronon, "Yeah, that's exactly where we go next. I'm certain Rodney can't wait to experience more of the Wild West." He was no longer glaring at McKay but smirking.

Rodney groaned.

~~ooOoo~~

Carson returned around three in the afternoon, excited about his day. He had caught the heaviest string of bass, and the largest bass in the amateur class, winning a thousand dollars, a new rod and reel, and a gift certificate to the pro shop at the marina. After taking a shower, he joined the guys on deck.

The first thing Sheppard noticed about him was that the Scotsman was beaming. "Have a good time, doc?"

"Aye, I did, laddie. More fun than I expected. One of those spots you and I looked at was a hot one. My partner did pretty well, but I got lucky and got the bigger bass."

"What was your partner like?"

"His name was Ed Murray, and he owns a plumbing company in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Nice guy; married, a couple of kids and grandkids, just an ordinary guy. It was so refreshing to talk about fishing and the weather, and family…we even talked plumbing. Not a mention of a Wraith or a stargate or anything…very pleasant day."

"Sounds like you had a good day, doc. Going back tomorrow?"

"The amateur division was only one day, but I'd like to go back at weigh-in for the pros. See if they did any better than I did."

"A thousand dollars, I'd call that pretty big."

"Aye, it is but two days of fishing, whoever has the biggest fish, or the heaviest catch will win ten thousand dollars and a boat; not bad for a couple of days. At least, we will eat well tonight. And John, the money I won, I think it should go toward this trip. You've been covering too much of the expenses."

Sheppard frowned, "We'll discuss that later."

Beckett let Sheppard's response go and asked, "What did you guys do while I was gone?"

"Sheppard went swimming." Rodney's comment garnered another glare from Sheppard.

"You went swimming, laddie; how do you feel?"

"Fine."

McKay continued, "Ronon had to help him back onto the houseboat."

"Damnit, McKay."

Beckett chuckled, "Don't be mad at him, I told him to report back what the little mice did while the cat was away."

"Really, Carson this constant conversation about how I am feeling is getting old and I want these staples out."

"That I can do, come downstairs, and we'll take them out right now."

About an hour later, everyone had showered, changed, and gathered in the salon. Sheppard was surprised to see a bottle of scotch sitting on the counter, along with four squat glasses.

"Carson? Your Scotch?"

"Yep, it's after four in the afternoon and time for a cocktail." He poured a glass for everyone, and smiled at Sheppard, "Yes, even you…time to wean you from the hard drugs. You are healing nicely; the staples are out, time to get you back in shape."

Sheppard raised his glass, "Here, here to that, doc."

They spent the next two hours relaxing before Beckett decided to fix dinner. He got the bass out of the fridge and gathered other ingredients, including a six-pack of beer.

Rodney's curiosity got the better of him, "What are you making."

"Ed gave me the recipe; it's called 'Drunken fish." Carson opened one beer and measured out two cups. He then passed out three beers to his friends, retaining one for himself. "The recipe calls for two cups of beer plus a beer per person. Two cups go in the sauce, and the rest we drink, hence, the drunken fish. The recipe just doesn't say who gets drunk."

Over dinner, they discussed where the trip would take them next. Sheppard told Carson, "I just found out this afternoon that we have another week of leave thanks to General Landry. So I was thinking we stay here for another two days, then head for Arizona and New Mexico. How does that sound?"

"Peachy…" was Rodney's only reply, prompting Sheppard to laugh.

"So if Rodney thinks its peachy, then its peachy…so that's the plan. Tomorrow, however, I think we should explore more of the lake. There are a couple of other marinas we could visit, maybe have lunch."

"We should take the boat I rented for today back tomorrow."

"Okay, and we should rent some water-skis and maybe a tube. Going to be a fun day." For the rest of the evening, the friends watched a couple of movies, then called it a night.

Sheppard wasn't certain exactly what wakened him, but he was instantly alert. There was the sound of footsteps, someone walking through the houseboat. He listened for a moment, expecting to hear the bathroom door close, certain it must be Beckett, or maybe Rodney rummaging for a snack. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he heard a second set of footsteps, then the creak of a door, Carson's door.

Easing out of bed, Sheppard grabbed his P-14 from the dresser drawer, and slipped up against his closed doorway, listening. A muffled cry from Beckett sent him into the hallway; a blow to the back of his head sent him to the floor, unconscious.

A male voice whispered, "Who the fuck is he? He wasn't with the other two at the marina."

"I don't know," his taller companion spoke, reaching for Sheppard's gun, "but he's got a pretty fancy 9-mil here. What the hell are they doing with weapons like this? Bennie, you said these guys were an easy target; I think we should get out of here."

"No, finish tying these two up while I look for the other guy; he must be below. Then we'll look for the money this guy won today and stuff he bought yesterday. We can sell that stuff for some good money."

On the lower deck, the thud that resounded when Sheppard fell onto the deck awakened Rodney. He heard what sounded like a couple of people moving around, and became concerned that Sheppard might have fallen. He got out of bed and ran up the stairs.

"Carson, Sheppard, everything oka...ugh," Rodney tripped over Sheppard, slamming into the wall. Stunned, it took him a moment to realize that a gun was sticking against his ribs.

"Who are you people?" Rodney was scared, from his vantage point he couldn't tell if Sheppard was breathing.

"Shut up or I'll shut you up." Bennie stepped up next to Rodney, "Anyone else on this damn boat?"

Rodney stuttered, "No, just us…hey, he…he's hurt, can I check on him?"

"Hurt...well, we don't want him to be lonely." Bennie slugged Rodney across the jaw, splitting his lip open. "Now you're hurt, too." Let's get these three into the front and then get the loot and get out of here.

Bennie pushed Rodney into the salon and pulled a piece of rope from the knapsack he was carrying, and tied Rodney's hands, and feet. He then forced Rodney to the floor, waving Sheppard's gun in his face. "Now you stay there or one of you dies."

Going back down the short hall, Bennie dragged Sheppard into the salon, leaving him behind but close to Rodney. Frank appeared with Carson, who had also been hit; one of his eyes was already swollen, blood flowing across his face. He pushed Carson onto the floor, where he fell across Rodney.

"Now all of you be quiet, or I swear I'll kill you."

Carson spoke, his voice raspy, "I remember you two; you were at the pro shop."

"Yeah, that was us…now shut up."

Frank and Bennie began searching through the houseboat, returning to the salon every now and then to drop stuff onto the dining room table.

They heard them go down the stairs and Rodney whispered to Carson, "You okay?"

"No, Rodney, my head hurts. John, what happened to him?"

"Don't know, he was already out before I came upstairs."

"Ronon?"

"I told them there was no one else here; I'm hoping he woke up."

Bennie came back into the salon carrying Rodney's wallet, laptop, and pad. After he dropped the items on the table, he came over to Rodney. "I thought you told me no one else was here, but someone's stuff is in the fourth bedroom. Where is he?"

"I told you, not here."

Bennie whacked Rodney across the cheekbone with the barrel of Sheppard's gun, "Don't lie to me, where is he?"

"Ugh…h-he ran into some friends…staying with them to-tonight."

"You better not be lying to me."

Frank came from the back of the houseboat, "Found the fishing rods; they're up top. Come help me get 'em down."

The two robbers headed for upper deck ladder. The door closed just as Sheppard began to stir.

Carson whispered, "John…John be quiet, they'll hear you."

"Uh...what the hell…"

"We're being robbed, but they haven't found Ronon yet."

Sheppard moaned, "You guys okay?"

In unison, Rodney and Carson answered, "Fine."

Sheppard tried to roll over, "Somehow…I don't believe you. Who's behind me?"

"Me," Rodney answered.

"The ropes around my wrists are loose, can you reach them?"

Rodney wiggled closer and after a few minutes of groping, eliciting a 'Watch it McKay' once from Sheppard, Rodney got his hands on the ropes binding Sheppard's hands. He almost had them loose when Frank and Bennie returned.

The robbers started throwing the items they had stolen into heavy cloth bags they had brought with them, then Frank took the bags out to the Whaler. When he returned, Bennie said, "Frank, find the keys, so that we can get out of here." Frank headed for the helm's console and found the keys to the larger Whaler.

"What about them, Bennie?"

"I think we need a little insurance, bring him with us." Bennie pointed to Carson.

Sheppard was feigning being unconscious, so Rodney quickly spoke, "Hey… you don't need to take him, we won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, well, this way, we can guarantee you won't tell anyone, or your buddy here dies."

Frank grabbed Carson's bound hands and pulled him up, shoving him through the doorway. Bennie knelt down next to Rodney and grinned, "Nice knowing you…good night." He struck Rodney, half-heartedly, and left, closing the door behind him.

Sheppard whispered, "Rodney, get me loose."

Rodney found the ropes, and managed to get Sheppard untied. As the colonel got his feet unbound, they heard a deep voice yelling for the robbers to halt…Ronon.

Sheppard jumped up and slid his hand under the couch cushion where Ronon had stashed a gun when the Park Rangers had visited. Good man, he had left the gun there. He ran to the door as he heard the Whaler's engines roar to life. As he opened the door, a gunshot rang out from above him. He stepped onto the front deck and saw Ronon jump from the upper deck into the boat, slamming into Frank. The robber's bulk was similar to Ronon's, and they struggled until Bennie hit the throttle and turned the Whaler sharply left. As Bennie swerved the boat toward the opening of the cove, the motion threw Ronon and Frank overboard. Bennie headed out toward open water, never looking back.

Frank was struggling to swim away, but Ronon grabbed him, pressing the 9-mil against the robber's temple. "You struggle and I will kill you." Frank went limp and Ronon began to pull him back toward the houseboat. Sheppard jumped in the water and helped Ronon drag the man onto the shore.

Sheppard placed the barrel of his gun under Frank's chin, "Your buddy mentioned a boat ramp, where is it?"

"I don't know." Frank spat at Sheppard, prompting Ronon to tighten his grip on the man, his hand around Frank's throat.

Ronon growled, "Answer him," then released the pressure on Frank's throat.

Sheppard asked again, his voice harsh, "The ramp, where is it?"

Frank was gasping for breath, "Across…the lake…Boulder Harbor."

"Tie him up," Sheppard stood up, "I'm going to untie Rodney and get the keys to the other boat."

As he jumped onto the front deck, Sheppard heard Rodney yelling for him. "John, John…what's going on?"

Rushing inside, Sheppard began to untie McKay, "We got one of them, but the other one got away with Carson. We're going after him." He helped Rodney to his feet, then reached into the helm console for a map of the lake. He found the boat ramp across the lake in the direction of the dam. "Contact the Park Rangers, tell them what happened, and tell them we are heading to Boulder Harbor...," he wrote down the coordinates, "tell them the robber is armed, and has Carson hostage. And get them here to secure this bastard."

Ronon entered with Frank, throwing him onto the floor. He had bound Frank's hands, and had taken one of the anchor ropes and began to bind his feet, securing him, so he couldn't get free.

Sheppard turned to Ronon, "Where's the other weapon? Bennie's got mine, you've got one, and I found the one you left under the couch. Rodney needs a gun."

"Must be one in Rodney's room, the one under the couch cushion was Carson's. I'll get it."

Sheppard ran into his room to get more clips, his K-Bar, slipping on a hoodie and his sneakers. As soon as Ronon returned, they grabbed the keys and headed for the smaller Whaler that Carson had rented. Finding the robbers' boat tied to the Whaler, Sheppard cut it loose with his K-Bar and started the Whaler's motor. He handed a high-powered light stored under the dashboard to Ronon, "Keep this shined toward the front." Sheppard inputted the coordinates in the boat's GPS, pushed the throttle forward and headed across the lake, thankful that there was a glimmer of moonlight to help guide the way.

The lake surface was smooth as glass; the intermittent moonlight filtered by scattered clouds, created a mirror-like effect on the water. Sheppard's heart was pounding in his chest; they had to get to Carson before Bennie left. He was hanging on to the belief that if Bennie were a killer, they would all be dead already. He hoped the bastard didn't have enough guts to commit murder.

Over the din of the motor, Ronon asked, "How far is this place?"

Sheppard yelled back, "About five miles or so, it's a boat ramp with a dock, not a marina…when we get close, I'm gonna cut the lights, hopefully there will be some lights on the ramp."

As the minutes ticked by, both men became more and more focused on their task. As they approached the harbor opening, Sheppard motioned for Ronon to shut off the spotlight. He steered the Whaler toward the port shoreline which was bathed in shadows, turned off the running lights, and throttled the motor back.

As they slowly made their way along the shore, they could see the boat ramp illuminated by a few pole lights. There were a few vehicles with boat trailers parked in the lot next to the ramp, but only one boat, a Boston Whaler, tied to the front of the dock. Sheppard eased the boat a bit farther through the shadows, until they could clearly see Bennie pulling the items he had stolen out of the boat. Carson wasn't visible; Sheppard assumed he was lying in the boat.

He whispered, "Drop the anchor slowly."

Ronon put the anchor into the water without a splash, and Sheppard motioned for the Satedan to follow him. They climbed off the boat into the shallow water along the shore and headed for the ramp, using the parked vehicles as a shield. They had anchored approximately five hundred feet from the boat dock, but stopped short, about twenty-five feet, hiding behind a pick-up truck.

"Ronon, wait until he heads for his car, then get to the boat and get Carson. I'll take care of Bennie."

Ronon nodded, and when Bennie exited the boat with an armful of fishing rods and headed for his car, Ronon took off, moving swiftly and quietly toward the boat. Sheppard waited until Ronon made it on board, then stepped out from behind the truck and approached Bennie.

"Going somewhere?"

Bennie stiffened, and whirled around, Sheppard's P-14 in his hand. His faced registering surprise to see Sheppard facing him, gun steady, pointed directly at him.

"So, looks like this is a standoff, wonder which one of us is the better shot?"

Sheppard laughed sarcastically, "I wouldn't go there. You won't know what hit you if you want to play that game."

"Look, your friend's in the boat. I'll just take my leave and we'll call it even."

"No, we won't; it's over."

Ronon yelled, "He's fine, Sheppard."

Bennie's head snapped toward the boat, to see Carson on his feet, Ronon untying his hands. His head snapped back to Sheppard.

"You are a piece of work Bennie, a couple of bumbling thieves, and you left your partner behind to save your own hide. Nah…not letting you go. Put the gun down and this will be over."

The sound of sirens cut faintly through the quiet of the harbor. Sheppard said quietly, "The Park Police are on their way, Bennie. It's done."

Bennie quickly glanced toward the water, the blue flashing lights of the Park Police boats were getting closer.

"No, I'm not giving up. You can go to hell…" Bennie's finger squeezed the P-14's trigger, but the gun flew from his hand just as it fired. Sheppard had placed a bullet into Bennie's forearm.

Ronon had jumped from the boat and was running toward Sheppard and Bennie when they fired. He rushed toward Bennie, kicking the gun out of the robber's reach. Sheppard joined him.

"Well, you didn't kill him."

Sheppard chuckled, "Told you, try to avoid killing at all cost."

Carson reached them, "John, are you alright?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Been better, bastards loved to hit hard." He knelt down next to Bennie, "Ronon, help me, need to get this bleeding stopped. Go get the first-aid kit from the boat."

"Ronon, leave your gun here on the ground." Sheppard put his gun down on the ramp, and stepped away from the weapons, as Ronon headed for the boat. The first Park Police boat docked, and four officers hopped on the boat, guns drawn. One stayed on the dock watching Ronon.

The first officer to approach Sheppard was the same officer, who they had spoken to twice already. He holstered his weapon as he walked up to Sheppard, motioning for another officer to secure the weapons on the ground.

"Well, well, colonel; we meet again. You guys alright?"

"Ronon and I are but Carson and Rodney were both beaten up. Is Rodney okay?"

"Yes, there are officers at the houseboat now. They have secured the other robber and are planning to transport McKay to the hospital to be checked out. Police and ambulances are rolling from Boulder City to this location. So, can you tell me what happened."

Ronon and the officer with him arrived, and Ronon handed the first-aid kit to Carson, prompting the Park Officer to shake his head. "You guys amaze me…you take them down, then patch them up."

Sheppard just shook his head, " Let me tell you how this went down, officer."

After giving a statement to the Park Police, Carson and Sheppard, Ronon riding with them, were loaded into an ambulance to be taken to the University hospital in Vegas, where McKay had transported.

Carson and Rodney both required stitches, and Carson had a slight concussion. Sheppard suffered a bad bruise but no concussion. Overall, Sheppard thought as they were dismissed from the hospital, they were lucky.

The Park Police officer was waiting to take them back to Callville Marina. "Gentlemen, the houseboat is still a crime scene, so I'm taking you to the lodge for the rest of the night. Vegas PD said they'd release the houseboat in the morning. Bennie's been treated and released, and both are in jail. This should be over soon, they confessed to the robbery."

It was nearly four in the morning when the four men arrived at the lodge. Exhausted, they retired to their rooms and slept.

 

 **Day Six**

Sheppard and Ronon had just sat down for breakfast in the lodge restaurant, when they received a surprise visitor, Las Vegas PD Detective Hank Marshall.

"Colonel, Mr. Dex, fancy meeting you again."

"Detective, how are you." Sheppard smiled, a tad sheepishly, as he shook Marshall's hand.

"I think the correct question is how are you guys?" Marshall asked as he sat down.

"A little worse for wear; Rodney and Carson got banged up a bit, but they're okay. What brings you here?"

"Well, when I heard about your latest adventure, I decided to check things out. The robbers, Bennie Thompson and Frank Simmons are petty thieves, who hang around events like the bass tournament looking for high rollers to rob. They said they spotted your two friends in the pro shop, spending a lot of money using one of those 'rich peoples' credit cards,' and thought they were easy targets. Don't think they had a clue the two of you were with them. They saw Rodney leave Carson off and then followed Carson back to the houseboat yesterday after the weigh-in. They didn't get close enough to see there were other people onboard. Might have changed their mind if they had. They copped a plea pretty fast. I wanted you to know that I worked it out with the DA to return your possessions. I reminded him of the Caesar's robbery and let's just say…your rather highly placed connections. The Vegas PD will deliver everything later today."

"Thanks, Hank; we appreciate that."

"So my question is, when the hell are you leaving my jurisdiction?"

Sheppard laughed, "Well, not before breakfast, care to join us?"

Marshall grinned, "Only if you're buying, colonel."

About mid-day, they arranged for a new Whaler and returned to the houseboat after it was released. Later in the afternoon, a couple of Park Rangers delivered their stolen belongings. Ronon took Carson's fishing gear and sorted it out as Sheppard checked out the electronics. Setting the weapons aside, he told Ronon they would need to clean and check the guns.

Carson and Rodney had both gone to bed when they returned. About five o'clock, Carson wandered into the salon.

"Well, you certainly look perky." Sheppard gave the doctor a lopsided grin.

Carson muttered, "Cheeky bugger."

"Looks like the swelling's going down, but you have one hell of a black eye."

"Yeah, my vision's improving."

"How many stitches did you get to sew up that eyebrow?"

"It took three, cut wasn't big, but bled like hell."

Rodney, his voice a bit slurred from sleep, interrupted as he entered the salon, "Well...I have two stitches in my lip, and three on my cheek." The scientist was wearing the happy face pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, his hair a mess. Sheppard restrained from teasing him about the pajamas or his swollen lip.

Sheppard scoffed, "Okay then, that settles it…you win, Rodney." Carson chuckled when Rodney bristled at Sheppard's remark.

Before Rodney could reply, Ronon stuck a cup of coffee under Rodney's nose, ending the stitch debate. He then got coffee for the rest of them.

Rodney spotted his laptop and pad, grabbing them, "Thank goodness. I was worried we wouldn't get these back."

"We were lucky that they weren't kept for evidence. But those guys admitted the robbery, and Marshall intervened, so we got the stuff back in record time."

Rodney, who was already tapping away on the pad, remarked, "I'm hungry."

"Ronon warmed up some soup we bought at the restaurant before we left this afternoon; figured neither of you would feel like chewing anything."

While eating, Carson asked, "John, what's next? Do we want to go ahead and leave Lake Mead?"

"I think we should stick to our plan. Ronon and I'll go to the marina tomorrow morning, rent some skis and a tube, and we'll do what we planned. You two should be feeling better by tomorrow; and I'm better. Advil chased away all my aches this morning. So I vote we relax tonight, have some fun tomorrow, and then maybe consider leaving the next day or so."

Everyone agreed, and they spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the upper deck enjoying the evening sky and the hot tub. Sheppard noticed that Ronon kept a computer sleeve nearby at all times, a computer sleeve that had an uncharacteristic bulge in it. A bulge likely made not by a laptop but by a 9-mil.

Sheppard sighed softly, staring at the night sky, thinking how nothing changed for them. Regardless of where they were in the universe, they had to be ready for whatever came their way. However, he knew he was ready for a couple of days of mindless fun and willed the bad stuff to stay away. Surely, they could have two days in a row without trouble finding them. Surely.

 **_To be continued…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camcampgirl, in a fanfiction.com review to Road Trip wrote this thought, "Shep comes to their rescue when they need it, then they return the favor by rescuing him from himself." A wonderful observation and a wonderful line; I asked for permission to use the line in this story and was given it. Carson uses the thought in the first section of this segment. Thanks, Camcampgirl, an extremely insightful comment about these characters.  
> ____________________________________
> 
> Well, they have survived with a couple more days on Lake Mead, then off to the Wild West. Cowboys and Indians…right up their alley…even Rodney might have some fun! Hope to have the next installment soon, at least as soon as possible.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who are enjoying Road Trip…I really appreciate you reading and thanks for the comments and private messages. I love them all!

**Author's Note:**

> So….are you having fun yet???? I would love to hear from you!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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